Beautiful Nightmare
by brookemopolitan
Summary: When girls working at the Kit Kat Club start turning up dead all over New York City, Kate is forced to go undercover before the grisly murderer can strike again. Case fic for people who don't like case fic, spoilers for Watershed (Cover art by sunnyamazing)
1. Chapter 1

**I remember saying I'd never do a multichap again. I lied. I humbly present my entry into the first Castle ficathon :) It is incredibly different from my normal work, but play along, because I've got one hell of a case planned. Buckle up, we're picking up straight from the finale :)**

**I own nothing :)**

* * *

_"So whatever happens, whatever you decide... Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?"_

Kate's breath froze in her lungs. She was _sure,_ so completely certain that he was letting her down gently. That she'd ruined everything the way she'd always feared she would and he was walking away to find someone fun and uncomplicated. The fact that he was on his knee in front of her, holding out the most stunningly gorgeous diamond ring she'd ever seen left her reeling. She'd once told him that proposals should be small, intimate things, but she hadn't meant this.

Her emotions swirled like a kaleidoscope. As soon as she locked down on one, they all swirled and changed again. She knew she had to tread lightly. So much hinged upon this moment. She'd spent so long over thinking, overanalysing everything in their relationship. It was that obsessive tic that had sent them spiralling towards disaster. She had to stop thinking and trust her gut.

They had to do this as equals. She couldn't be sitting above him. She slipped off the swing, kneeling in the slightly muddy ground before him. In a move as natural as breathing, she leaned forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss. In a move terribly reminiscent of the trashy romance novels she'd read under the covers as a young teenage girl, she desperately hoped that she could convey her love and apologies in a kiss. Pulling away, she cupped his cheek with her palm. "Do you promise to listen to me?" Kate asked him.

She could see the confusion clouding his eyes, but he nodded none the less.

She took the ring from his hand. She so wanted to slip it on her finger and promise him always. She wanted to more than she'd ever wanted anything before. She knew that if she did that, she'd only be cheating them both of what that one word, laden with so much meaning, implied.

She reached beneath her shirt, pulling out the chain that she'd taken to wearing since that interview a few days previous. She'd wanted her mother's strength, her conviction to do the right thing and with that had slipped the chain her mother's engagement ring hung from around her neck. She didn't break eye contact with Castle as she undid the chain, sliding Castle's ring on it to rest next to her Mother's.

She could practically see his defences rising, locking his vulnerabilities away so tightly she'd never see them again. She had to act. "I'm not saying no," she murmured. "I'm saying not yet."

"What does that mean?" Castle asked, his voice husky with unspoken emotion.

Kate sighed, ruminating over how she could phrase this. "I love you," she prefaced. "When I met you, you were this cocky jackass that ruined the illusion of my favourite writer of all time. Slowly, you proved useful at the cop thing. You never gave up. You wormed your way into my heart, running headlong at the defences I spent a decade building. I love you for that. Before you, I existed. I wasn't living. I was a shell of a human. And you changed all of that." She paused, shooting him a grateful smile, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. "You broke down every wall, cut through every defence and I love you for it."

"I don't understand," Castle interjected.

She silenced him with a gentle look, wordlessly pleading him to let her say all she had to say. "I'm a whole person. Because of you scratching and pounding down those walls, I'm fulfilled in a way that I never thought I could be," she gave him a sad smile. "And I was so busy being fulfilled and becoming whole as a person that I never thought to do that for you."

"I'm an open book."

Kate chuckled, gesturing for them to move back onto the swings, ignoring the muddy patches on her knees. "That's why I can't marry you right now, Castle. We both know that's far from true." He hadn't walked away, leaving her to regress back to that shell of a person she was. "You excuse yourself and apologise when you have to act like a father to your daughter. I still don't know why your marriages failed. You can't tell me where we're going and then you shock me with this. I know you, Richard Castle. You go big or go home and I adore that about you. But this isn't a solution to our problems."

"What about DC?" Castle asked. She could almost feel that little boy enthusiasm daring to hope.

"DC was an amazing opportunity," Kate agreed. "I'd have almost unlimited resources, working on a scale I've never imagined. But it was just a job. Just like I was for years. I've learned to let my hair down. Occasionally indulge in a little _Cops Gone Wild,_" She joked lightly. "If I took that job, I would be running. I would be burying myself in my work because that's what I've always done when I'm scared and I've worked too hard to do that again. I'm not going to sacrifice years of the life I earned for somebody else's future," she reached out and brushed her hand against his, where it was gripped around the chain. "I worked hard so that I could be perfect and have you. I had this immeasurable standard that I had to fit to be enough for you. But it was never about that for you, was it?"

He shook his head. "Never," he agreed. "I only ever wanted you, no matter how you came."

"And you have me, Castle," Kate assured me. "You have me and I'm not going anywhere. And you've been so wonderful about not pressuring me, not rushing me that I was stupid enough to assume you not pushing me to be more than I am now meant you didn't want me at all."

"You know what they say about assuming," Castle joked weakly, a tiny spark of his roguish sense of humour back in his tone.

"Something about you being an ass?" She shot back before she could help herself. "Because it's a given I was."

"I made you seek assurance somewhere else," Castle muttered, disgust colouring his words.

"Because you were scared of pushing me too far. Can I hazard a guess and say you were scared of showing me how much you're invested in this?" She suggested tentatively.

"Third time's the charm," he shrugged.

"One and done," she replied shyly. "Castle, we owe it to ourselves to do this right. We waited so long, we deserve to give ourselves the best possible chance."

"Where does that leave us now?" Castle asked.

"Well, you know how seriously I take rings I wear around my neck," Kate mentioned nonchalantly. "We keep travelling the path we were on before sleazy billionaire philanthropists and job offers derailed us. But this time you know that I'm not going anywhere and I know that I have some scratching and clawing to do."

She didn't expect his posture to slump, shame radiating from his body language. "What if you think less of me?" He muttered.

Oh, that simply would not do. Kate rose from the swing and stood in front of him. Reaching for both his hands, she tugged him to his feet. "Castle," she sighed. "I don't think there is anything that you could tell me that would make me think less of you. I fell in love with Rick Castle, the man, not Richard Castle, the mystery writer. I don't love you in spite of your flaws. Flaws that are apart of the man I love and I will not have you talking shit about him, because I think he's pretty great."

There it was. That spark of belief. That whisper of extraordinary reflected in his eyes. If she were a gambling woman, she would bet for certain he was actually starting to believe her. "I am not going anywhere," she reassured him, resting her forehead against his.

"Thank you," he breathed, his nose brushing against hers as he captured her lips in a kiss.

She reluctantly pulled away, before wrapping her arms around him in a bone-breaking hug. His arms banded her midsection, lifting her off the ground, spinning her around in a circle. Giggles bubbled in her chest and broke free, matching his gleeful laughter. "You just told me you want to marry me," he marvelled, gently placing her back onto her feet.

"You're damn right I did," Kate agreed, leaning in to kiss him again. Her phone began to buzz loudly and she managed to sneak a few nipping kisses to his neck before answering. She gave a few affirmatives before hanging up.

"We caught a case," she announced to Castle, reaching out to tug on his hand. "Apparently it's real Beckett flavoured."

"Sounds like there's a story there," Castle mused. "Let's go."

* * *

They stopped for coffee on the way to the crime scene. Kate had her hand firmly linked with his as they meandered up to the location. Spotting the crowd that had gathered near the address she'd been sent, she gave his fingers a squeeze before dropping them, squaring her shoulders and preparing herself for whatever horror she would find behind the haphazardly erected police tape. Her almost fiancé hot on her heels, she steeled herself for the worst and moved towards the crime scene.

"Whoa," she breathed when she finally saw the body. Castle stopped short next to her, struck dumb at the sight.

The victim was a young woman. Her throat had been slit to the spine, her blood pooling in the walkway between two apartment blocks. She'd been completely mutilated, her midsection shredded open, intestines strewn somewhere around her shoulders.

Kate forced back the bile that was rising to the back of her throat. She knew she was probably far paler than usual, but she wouldn't fall prey to delicate female sensibilities. She was going to find out what happened to this girl.

"What have we got?" She asked quietly.

"A hot ass mess," Lanie replied. "I can't tell you much. Liver temp is meaningless because she's been so exposed. Rigor mortis suggests about fifteen hours ago, but who knows how Mother Nature could have messed with that. I need to get her back on the slab before I can tell you anything."

"Great," Kate replied. She turned to Ryan, "Can you give me anything?" She asked.

"Not much," he admitted. "We found her like this," he gestured to the state of undress the girl was in, shredded lace bra stained scarlet, high waisted shorts with suspendered stockings, a tuxedo jacket ripped open and covered in blood. "No ID, no phone, nothing on her that we could use to identify her."

"Espo," Kate gestured him over. "Get photos of the crowd. This looks textbook ritualistic murder to me," she instructed. "But be discreet," she cautioned. "Ryan, get uniforms started on a canvass, grab any CCTV footage you can get your hands on and get anybody who reported this in for an interview."

"There's more to this case," Castle mused as he watched CSU begin their canvass of the crime scene, moving so that he wouldn't be caught in the background of a photograph for evidence.

"What do you mean, Castle?" Kate asked patiently, wondering if he was going to go with the mafia or the CIA first.

"I don't know yet," Castle replied. "But my writer senses are tingling. There's a story here, trust me."

* * *

CCTV footage had been a bust. The killer had managed to pick the part of the laneway that was between two street lamps and was nearly pitch black, with cameras positioned in such a way that all they were able to pick up were vague movements of something that could have been their killer, but was equally likely to have been a large cat. None of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, discovering the body that morning, partially obscured by a trashcan.

"So, what we're saying is that we have absolutely nothing to identify this girl with," Kate sighed.

"Not a thing," Ryan replied. "Girl has no priors, so her fingerprints aren't in the system. She hasn't been listed a missing person, so nothing there. We gotta hope that something pops on Lanie's end."

"Bet you're wishing you took that fancy job in DC now," Espo teased.

Kate looked up from the photos of the crime scene she'd been studying. They knew. Of course they knew. "And miss out on moments like these? Never," Kate shot back. Despite their ribbing, she knew the boys were proud of her for having been offered such a prestigious position and were equally touched that she had stayed, even if they didn't know the circumstances as to why.

Kate's phone buzzed.

_Got something for you. Prepare to spill in the near future._

Kate's lips twisted into a wry smile. Lanie never was one to mince words. "Saddle up, Castle," she announced. "Lanie wants to see us."

* * *

"About the only thing that was left intact on this girl were her teeth," Lanie began in her typical brusque way. "I managed to match dental records. Your vic's name is Angelique Mendoza." She handed Kate a bundle of paperwork. Kate flicked through and saw that Lanie had pulled up any info on Angelique she could find; driver's licence, medical records and an article from a local newspaper.

"What else can you tell me?" Kate asked.

"She was strangled first," Lanie began, pointing to some vague remnants of bruising on the victim's mangled neck. "Probably knocked unconscious from that. From there she was dragged to the crime scene. Lack of bruising on the skull suggests that she was laid on her left side, not dropped. From there, her throat was slit. Last of all was the disembowelment," Lanie rattled off the gruesome details of Angelique's murder with a trained detachment, but anyone who knew her at all could tell that Lanie was totally rattled by the method of killing.

"Thank you, Lanie," Kate said quietly.

"That's not it," Lanie interjected. "She died sometime between 2 and 3 am. No signs of sexual intercourse, consensual or otherwise," Lanie paused, head bowed before she shared the final, disturbing detail. "Her uterus is missing."

"What?" Kate gasped, aghast.

"Judging by the quality of cutting and the precision with which he removed her uterus, you're looking at somebody with at least basic anatomical and surgical skill."

* * *

Visiting Angelique's parents had been awful. They lived on the outskirts of Long Island, their daughter recently moved to the City to study at the Tisch, the bright lights of Broadway her ultimate goal. They insisted she was a good girl who volunteered for soup drives in her spare time. There was nobody in the world that would ever want to hurt her. All they'd been able to do was offer Kate a spare key to Angelique's apartment.

Angelique's roommate was her best friend, a girl she'd known since she was five years old. Angelique was too focussed on her art to consider a boyfriend. Her parents were either incredibly naïve, or they genuinely had nothing of use that they could offer to the investigation.

As soon as they left the house, Kate got on the phone with the boys and ordered them to hit the apartment and drag some information out of the roommate. A boyfriend, something at work, hell, a dance teacher with a grudge. Kate needed _something_ to work the case.

"No matter how many times I see you do that, you never fail to amaze me," Castle said quietly as Kate manipulated the traffic as she drove back to Manhattan.

"No matter how many times I do it, I know that family is hearing it for the first time. That keeps things in horrifying perspective," Kate replied. "But thank you," she added, daring to grab his hand and press a kiss against his knuckles. "If we ever make it back to the city, do you want to try and have dinner at my place again?"

"I'm not going to sit at my place alone," Castle replied a little too quickly.

Kate thought about ribbing him, but then decided against it. "I want the company too."

* * *

They'd finally had the chance to wine, to dine, to soak in the tub and now Kate was carefully curled in Castle's side, naked and content, his warmth radiating through her.

"How exactly does this work?" Castle asked.

"How does what work?"

"Not yet."

Kate paused. "I guess it starts small. Tell me something. Anything. Something you've never told anybody before," She moved out of his embrace slightly to look him in the eye. "I'll start," she suggested. "I'm ashamed. Ashamed that I was too scared to talk to you and tell you what I needed. I thought I'd come so far and then I fell back on stupid old habits."

Castle sat silently, filtering through his memories before settling on something. "I've fought for exactly three things in my life. My books, my daughter and you."

Kate gave him a Mona Lisa smile. They were going to be able to do this. It might be the pair of them against the world, but they would be okay. "I missed you, Richard Castle," she informed him breathily, slinking close to him and deftly straddling his lap. "Do something about that, would you?"

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Your responses to the first chapter were absolutely incredible =D It has been very interesting seeing people try to guess where I'm going with this :) So far... nobody has guessed ;)**

**Fair warning... I may bump the rating of this up if I feel it needs to be; mostly because some of the violence is quite graphic, not necessarily because of sex scenes (though there could be some, if it comes to that). **

**And also- a MASSIVE thank you to the beautiful Laura (sunnyamazing) for my beautiful cover art and a big thank you to Em for her edits (these are my fandom weekend ladies and they ROCK).**

**There is something at the end of this chapter that could be triggering to some women, dealing with the topic of babies. Just putting it out there.**

**I did not get Castle for my birthday (which was on Sunday). Must we continue teasing Brooke?**

* * *

It was like a scene out of a movie. Castle was doing everything he could to delay the inevitable trip to the airport, Alexis foiling his plans by hurrying him along, Kate awkwardly coming along for the ride.

"Dad, seriously! I will be fine!" Alexis groaned for the umpteenth time as she stood in the line, waiting to check her bags in for the five hour flight to Costa Rica. She stepped up to the desk and began the process of checking in.

Kate stepped closer to her boyfriend and slipped her hand into his. "Castle, come on. You know she's going to be okay," she murmured soothingly, squeezing his fingers lightly.

"I know," he agreed. "I can't help worrying, though."

Dropping his fingers, Kate slipped her arm around his waist, a smile creeping over her lips when Castle slung an arm around her shoulders. She'd forgone heels today, content to be Kate, girlfriend of the nervous Dad who was letting his daughter go overseas alone after a disastrous experience.

Alexis looped her arm through her father's as they made their way to security, her serene expression all Castle needed to be absolutely certain that he was making the right decision. "Now, you promise me that you'll call me any opportunity you get?" Castle asked

Alexis rolled her eyes, "Of course Dad," she agreed obediently.

"And you'll email?"

"When I have access to the internet."

"And you won't get into cars with strangers?"

"Do I look like an idiot?"

"And you'll wear sunscreen every day?"

"Dad! All I have to do is look out a window and I get burnt," Alexis threw Kate a desperate look.

Kate stepped forward and drew Alexis into a hug. "Remember what I taught you?" She murmured into Alexis's ear, referring to the self-defence lessons Kate had been giving Alexis over the past few months.

"Uhuh," Alexis replied. "Take care of him for me

"Of course," Kate promised. Giving Alexis one final squeeze, she stepped away. "Have an amazing time! Just use your common sense and you will be fine."

Castle swept in, pulling Alexis into a bear hug that left her toes scraping for purchase on the ground.

"Are you as nervous as I am?" One of the other mothers asked Kate anxiously.

"Alexis is a smart girl. She's going to have a great time," Kate replied.

"Gee. You're a relaxed mother," the other woman remarked.

Kate froze. "Oh, I'm not her mother," she stuttered out. "Her father is my boyfriend," Kate explained hastily.

"I see," The woman sniffed, a haughty expression on her face. Kate sighed. The woman was well aware that Alexis wasn't her daughter. She was just wanted to see if she could make Kate squirm. Evidently, she could.

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So far they had dealt with very little public repercussion regarding writer and muse becoming an item and frankly, she didn't care what this small-minded college mom thought. A text message buzzed, Kate gratefully taking the opportunity to end the conversation with the woman who was currently looking between her and Castle with avid fascination. "Castle," she called out. "Put her down," she ordered playfully. "Stop delaying the inevitable. She'll be back in six weeks."

Castle looked over at Kate and nodded. He set his daughter back on the ground, pressing a smacking kiss against her cheek. Alexis waved him off, fighting hard against her own nervousness as she made her way to security. Kate slipped her arm around Castle's waist, silently daring the woman to say anything.

Kate was saved from eternal awkwardness when one of the Nosy Mother's band of loyal followers invited them to coffee, Castle politely declining saying that he and Kate had to get back to the precinct.

Castle linked hands with Kate, the pair of them striding back to Kate's car. "Thank you for coming," he said sincerely.

"There is nowhere else I would rather be," Kate replied.

"But you didn't have to and you did anyway," Castle pointed out.

Kate stopped in front of the car, turning to face him. "I know I didn't have to," she insisted. "I _wanted_ to," she impressed, hoping that he'd take the hint. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and climbed into the front seat of the car. "Castle, come on. Distraught roommate waiting."

* * *

Kate was glad she hadn't chosen the interrogation room to interview the roommate. Tina Nguyen was barely five foot tall and looked like a gust of wind could blow her over. Kate highly doubted she was the killer. She looked over at Castle who discreetly raised his eyebrows. He agreed, then.

"Is it true?" Tina asked with a little hiccup. "Was Angie really mangled up like something out of _Saw_?"

Oh this poor girl. Not only had her best friend been murdered, she'd also been desecrated beyond belief. Kate could only nod.

Tina gave a mangled little whimper. "What can I do to help?"

Kate flipped open her notebook. "Tell me about Angelique. Any boyfriends I should know about?"

Tina laughed mirthlessly. "No way. Angie was a lesbian. She just hadn't done the hella awkward coming out to her parents thing. They're uber conservative, you know?"

"No girlfriends then?"

"Honestly? No," Tina shrugged. "She was single for at least four months. The last breakup she had was because her ex went on tour with a play. It was totally amicable."

"Any teachers or classmates that might have a grudge?" Kate asked. She felt like she was grasping at straws here.

Tina chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I don't want to speak badly of the dead, but Angie wasn't the best," she admitted. "I mean, she was good. She was really good, but she wasn't the best in her class and she knew it. I don't think anybody was after her voice, _Little Mermaid_ style."

Kate was running out of options. "What did she do for work? Could something there have come up there?"

Tina flushed. "Angie worked at the Kit Kat Club," she murmured.

Kate raised an eyebrow, waiting for Castle to interject like she knew he would. "Is that some kind of strip club?" He asked, trying not to sound like a total perv or like he was judging.

Tina fixed him with a look, fierce despite her tear reddened eyes and leaky nose. "It's a burlesque bar," she responded tartly, "Burlesque is about the tease, not the strip. She mostly served drinks anyway. She only performed a few times."

Kate felt the familiar tingle of finding a lead rush through her. Finally, something she could work a case with. She asked Tina a few more clarifying questions, before sending her along her way.

Walking out of the interview room, she spotted Ryan and Esposito. "Guys, I need you to head down to the Kit Kat Club. The vic worked there. Find out anything you can."

Esposito shrugged. "No problems, boss." He picked up his folder and stood, ready to fight Ryan for the right to drive.

"Are you guys busy tonight? Jenny's insisting you all come over for dinner. She's cooking," Ryan asked. He and Espo swapped a look.

Kate looked over at Castle. He nodded. "We'll be there," Kate agreed.

Kate sat down at her desk, spreading her notes out.

"What are you thinking?" Castle asked her.

Kate sighed. "I'm thinking I've got a victim who was generally well loved. We might have a lead, but I'm not about to hold my breath hoping that this is it."

"What do you think about the missing uterus?" Castle asked.

"Do you have a theory?" Kate asked drily.

"Not exactly," Castle replied.

Kate ran a hand through her hair. "Coffee, then," she ordered.

Kate desperately hoped that the boys would get something she could work with. Unless they got a lead, fast, the whole case was going to go cold. Angelique deserved better than that.

"Hey Beckett," Karpowski called out as she crossed the bullpen. "I've got you something that might help with your slice and dice case."

Kate cringed. Much like her literary alter ego, she hated the way that cops used gallows humour to deal with tougher cases. "What have you got, Karpowski?" she asked.

A case file was dropped on her desk. "We got a case like this about this time last year. Absolutely no leads, but MO is the same. I've already sent you the digital copy of the file."

"Thanks, Karpowski," she sighed, flipping open the manila envelope. This dead end case had to give her something. Hell, she'd work with taking the same subway route to college at this point.

The gentle thunk of a coffee cup hitting her desk broke her out of her reverie. "Have you got something?" Castle asked.

"Year old cold case from Karpowski's team," Kate informed him, picking up the slew of CSU photos. "Holy shit," Kate gasped. The victim had been found in her apartment, throat slit down to the vertebrae. Her entire abdomen had been cut open, her internal organs littered around her dead body. Breasts cut from her chest. Her face sliced and mangled beyond recognition. Her organs were littered around the body; one breast, her uterus and a kidney under her head, her other breast next to her right foot. Her liver was between her feet, spleen to her left, intestines spread out on the right. Arms and legs all had extensive jagged slash marks. Her heart was missing.

Kate could feel bile rising in her throat. Only Castle's hand, discreetly stroking the inside of her forearm, kept her grounded. She resisted the urge to run to the bathroom and throw up. She took a shuddering breath and forced herself to focus.

"She got anything in common with our vic?" Castle asked quietly, leaning to read the case file over Kate's shoulder.

"Nothing," Kate replied, forcing herself to concentrate. This wasn't the first time that Castle had leaned into her personal space, she reminded herself, her fingers twitching to pull his ear. The ring on the chain around her neck was practically burning into her sternum. She chanced a look at him. He had that same look on his face as when he'd murmured to her that he wanted to kiss her in the middle of the precinct. She could tell he just wanted to hug her, but he wouldn't dare risk her professional reputation. She gently nudged his cheek with her forehead, his clean smell doing wonders to clear her head and move past the monstrosity of the case.

"Thandi Plumnan. Ten years older than Angie. She lived in the Bronx." Kate flipped over to a smiling photo of Thandi, her white teeth shining against her dark skin. "Angelique was in her twenties. Single, a lesbian. Filipino," Kate rattled off. "Thandi was a recent immigrant from Zambia. Recently married. Didn't live anywhere near Angie."

Castle pointed to one detail listed on the case file. "Yeah, but she worked at the Kit Kat Club."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "That I can work with," she decided. She opened her emails, forwarding the file to the boys, her iPhone on loudspeaker in the other hand, informing them about the link they may have found.

* * *

Kate had insisted that no matter how gruesome the case, there was no way that it would overtake all their lives.

"Lanie is going to find time to grill you tonight, isn't she?" Castle asked Kate as they rode the elevator up to the Ryans' apartment.

"Most likely," Kate agreed. "You don't mind if I tell her?" She confirmed.

Castle planted a kiss against her forehead. "Not at all," he replied. He bumped his hip against hers, "I saw you handle that crazy Mom today," he commented. "You did well."

"What was there to do well at?" Kate asked.

"She was trying to get you to raise your hackles. You didn't. It's a lot more than most people would have done."

"Yeah, well, I'm not most people," Kate replied cheekily. "C'mon Writer Boy. We're being normal and social tonight."

* * *

Jenny was an incredible cook. She'd gone all out with courses, acting like the intimate dinner Ryan had made the evening out to be was an evening at a Michelin rated restaurant.

Kate had noticed that Ryan had been squirming all evening. He was almost vibrating with excited energy. She hadn't seen him quite like this since he was considering proposing to Jenny. Kate suppressed her detective's instincts. She'd spent years honing them to perfection, but she didn't want to be using them on a friend.

"I have something to tell you guys," Ryan blurted out over the main course. He linked hands with his wife. "Jenny's pregnant!"

Kate caught Espo's eye over the table. He was bursting with pride for his best friend. She stood up to hug Ryan. "Congratulations," she whispered. She moved over and hugged Jenny, overwhelmed with happiness for the two of them.

Settling back next to Castle, she couldn't help but brush a hand over the chain concealed beneath her shirt. This was going to be her one day. Rings on her finger and dinner parties with friends and little Castle babies. It felt good to think about it. Castle winked at her as he slung his arm across the back of her chair, fingers tracing her shoulder blade, slipping up and brushing against the chain where it hung around her neck. She squeezed his knee beneath the table affectionately.

* * *

After they'd finished dinner, Esposito dragged Ryan and Castle upstairs, waving Cuban cigars under their noses (Kate privately vowing Castle wouldn't be coming anywhere near her until he'd brushed his teeth).

Kate brought the last of the dishes into the kitchen, nearly dropping the plates when Lanie and Jenny rounded on her. "I told you to be ready to spill your guts," Lanie said warningly.

"I have no problems withholding dessert until I get gossip. I've spent the last three months completely miserable. I need some normal!" Jenny added, formidable and diminutive in the same breath.

Kate sighed. "I got offered a job in DC," she admitted. "And when I went to tell Castle I wasn't going to take it because I didn't want to run away from home, he proposed."

"He WHAT?" Lanie and Jenny echoed. "What did you say?"

Kate chewed on her lip. "I said not yet," she answered, tugging out her chain to show Lanie and Jenny the ring. "We're nowhere near on the same page," Kate admitted. "I thought he was about to break up with me and then he was down on one knee. We are so not ready to be thinking about a wedding. I don't want to screw this up."

"Good for you," Jenny murmured. "Marriage is hard. You need to be totally ready for it and if you're not, you'll set yourself up to fail. You're doing the right thing."

Lanie nodded in agreement. "He's a good man, Kate. Don't you let him get away."

"Oh, I'm not going to," Kate agreed.

* * *

Kate secretly loved that she and Castle had their nighttime routines worked out so perfectly. She removed her makeup and cleaned her face as he shaved (he showered at night and shaved after that to prevent shaving rash on his throat) the pair of them brushing their teeth side by side.

She sat on the edge of the bed, all but purring contentedly as Castle ran a brush through her long hair. "I was pregnant once," Kate admitted quietly.

She felt the brush pause against her scalp. "What happened?" Castle asked, resuming his rhythmic brushing.

"I was a rookie," Kate recalled. "Right after it became clear nothing would happen between Royce and I. I didn't really deal with it well," she turned to look at Castle, "One night stand," she confirmed. Castle only nodded.

"A few weeks later, I was really run down. One of those colds that make your muscles hurt you sneeze so hard. I thought it was the stomach flu. We were working a huge case so I didn't even notice that my period was late."

She paused, trying to find the right words. "I've never told anybody this," she confessed quietly. She felt Castle press a kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder blade and she forced herself to continue. "I was undercover for a Vice case for the first time," she mused. "Chased the guy into an alley way. Had to wrestle him to the ground before I could get the cuffs on him," Kate felt her breath hitch in her throat. This had never once made her cry, why was she getting caught by surprise now? "The next day, I woke up to excruciating pain. I'd never experienced period pain like that before," she wiped away a tear hastily. "I hadn't even realised anything was different. I hadn't realised I was nearly a month late and because I was too busy trying to prove myself as a wonder cop I didn't even notice I was pregnant until it was too late." A sob wracked her body.

Without a word, Castle pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her, tugging her onto his lap. He pressed his lips against her hair, mumbling soothing nonsense to her as she cried.

Kate clung to him, heedless that her tears were soaking his shirt. She'd kept this hurt so carefully hidden away for so long and she felt like she was finally purging it, releasing it so that it didn't have to weigh her down. Gradually, her sobs reduced to a few shuddering hiccups. "I don't want to make that mistake again," she sighed against Castle's skin.

"You want to have babies?" He asked her, hope blooming in his chest in a way it never had before.

"I want to have babies with you," she confessed. "After we're married and settled I want little girls with blue eyes and curly brown hair. Or a boy who constantly gets himself into trouble." She looked up at him with tear stained eyes. "Is that okay?"

He leaned forward to give her a soft kiss. "I can't imagine anything better."

* * *

**Any thoughts?**

**Come and play with me!**

**Twitter/Tumblr: brookemopolitan, for your daily serving of snark and fangirling.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh my goodness, I am SO sorry for the delay in posting! I've just moved house and apparently unpacking boxes so you have clean unmentionables takes precedence over writing (I know, right?) but I am back!**

**Many thanks to Ky for her beta work. I've never had my ass kicked so hard and it was awesome.**

* * *

Kate awoke to an empty bed, the sheets beside her cool. Scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she groaned when she saw the time blaring at her from Castle's alarm clock. Only one thing could have him out of bed. Cringing as her feet hit the cold floorboards, she padded out to the study, pausing to study Castle's silhouette, illuminated by the artificial glow of the interactive whiteboard in his study.

She stepped behind him, one arm slung round his waist, the other draped across his shoulder. Rising to her tiptoes, she laved soft kisses against the skin of his throat. "This isn't Nikki," she murmured, sinking back down and looking at the murder board. The smiling faces of Angelique and Thandi stared back at her.

"Something isn't right about this case," he mused, looking up at the meagre details of the murders that they had. "There's something staring us in the face that's too obvious to see. I just don't understand. They didn't even work at the club at the same time."

"Leave the case, Castle," Kate urged him quietly. "Its after three. It'll still be here when you wake up."

"I want to show you something," Castle announced, slipping an arm around her waist and tugging her to stand in front of him, one arm bracing her waist. From the sombreness of his tone, Kate sensed that he wasn't talking about the latest gadget he was thinking about buying. Closing the case file, he clicked on one titled "Beckett".

Kate let out a tiny gasp. She'd known that Castle had been investigating her shooting, but she'd had no idea he'd been so methodical about it. Even seeing the case all laid out in front of her, she didn't have a burning urge to scour Castle's information to see if there was anything she'd missed, any lead she could take…. All she saw was an entrance to the rabbit hole, but for once, it didn't seem all that appealing. It just looked like the gateway to hell, "Abandon hope, ye who enter here," Kate mused under her breath.

"Dante's Inferno?" Castle queried.

"Perspective," Kate replied.

"I deleted it, right before you turned up on my doorstep," Castle informed her.

Kate's cheeks warmed as she remembered that night. "What made you change your mind?"

"Bracken came along," Castle replied. "I wasn't sure what would happen next, especially with Smith, so I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Knowledge is power and all of that."

"I never thanked you," Kate murmured. "For keeping me safe."

"Always," Castle replied, brushing a kiss against her cheekbone.

Kate turned and buried her face into the crook of his neck, squeezing him tightly for a moment. She'd never really indulged her desire for physical affection devoid of lust. Touching somebody was never about the simple pleasure of having the one you loved close to you; it was only ever the lead up to sex. Like nearly every other element of their relationship, she felt like she'd been turned on her head. Kate was slowly realising the simple joy of curling up close to her lover, motivated by nothing other than the craving to be close to him. "Come back to bed, Castle," she urged him gently. "The case will be there in the morning."

"You don't want to look at the file?" he asked.

"There's nothing in that file for me anymore," Kate answered honestly. "I know who ordered my mother's death. I know who hired the sniper. I also know that whatever is contained in that file kept me away from what I really wanted," she punctuated her words with a nip to his jaw. "You," she reminded him earnestly. "Now come to bed with me, please."

There was no twinge of regret when he closed the case file. There was only the familiar tingle of joy that came with entangling her fingers with her lover's and having him gently tug her towards the bedroom.

* * *

Kate Beckett was a stoic woman; indomitable, unmoving. She didn't yield to pressure. She remained firm, standing her ground with grace and gumption. Kate Beckett was sure-footed and resolute when awake, so it amused Castle no end that when she slept, she couldn't be more different. She rarely stayed still, twitching and wriggling as she dreamed. He'd always suspected that she was a blanket hog, but now he had living proof as she cocooned herself in his comforter.

"The staring is creepy, Castle," Kate muttered with her eyes closed, rolling onto her side and curling into a ball.

"What if the staring comes with coffee?" He asked, setting a tray on the bedside table.

Kate yawned and sat up, blanket curled around her shoulders, accepting the cup from Castle, wrapping both hands around the mug.

Burrowed in the comforter, Castle was shocked by how very young his girlfriend (almost fiancée? They really had to nail down a term) looked. For once she didn't have the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was content to daydream as she sipped her morning coffee, wrapped up like a burrito. "You're a blanket hog," he teased her gently.

She shot him a look. He only shrugged.

"I don't like being cold," she admitted, elegant tapered fingers tightening around the ceramic cup. "Haven't liked it since the freezer."

Castle could see what she was doing. Handing over little pieces of herself freely, rather than forcing him to draw them out like blood from a stone. Some of them had been tiny, others had been from the most secret part of her heart; the place where he was sure a few bricks of that wall still remained.

If they had a hope of surviving, if he ever wanted that ring to leave the chain around her neck and end up on her finger, he had to respond in kind. He tugged Kate's feet into his lap, gently beginning to massage a foot.

"Did you break another vase?" Kate asked with an eyebrow raised.

Castle just shook his head, staring at Kate's purple painted toes. He doubted he would go through with it if he looked at her face. "Gina was… Gina was a distraction. I was lonely and she offered me company. I was a shell for years. I was Alexis's dad, I had meaningless short-term relationships that went nowhere and I wrote. Gina actually challenged me. Made me feel less lonely. We always got along well professionally and that transitioned just fine when she asked me to dinner."

He paused and dared to look at Kate. She was regarding him thoughtfully, green eyes studying him carefully, but he saw no judgement behind her gaze. Summoning up his courage, he continued. "We started seeing each other after somebody joked in the boardroom that we would make a cute couple. We dated a while and she made me feel less lonely. After an appropriate amount of time, I asked her to move in with me. I was so far in that the only thing I could do next was ask her to marry me. It was all so easy. I followed the steps, like an Ikea flat pack for a relationship. By the time I realised that I didn't really love Gina, it was too late. I was already in over my head."

He sighed. "We butted heads. She wanted Richard Castle, the suave mystery writer. She had a hard time reconciling him with Rick Castle, the guy with a Boba Fett in his bathroom and a loft rigged for laser tag. The tension between us started there. She couldn't deal with my erratic writing habits and I couldn't deal with her nagging both at home and at work."

It felt like he was writing a story. Somewhat slow to start with, but once he had a sense of the pace of the piece, it flowed out naturally. It didn't feel quite as excruciating as he imagined it would. Grabbing Kate's other foot, he continued the story.

"Gina signed Myles Knightley to Black Pawn. He writes mystery novels. His main character, Dimitri Buria is a KGB agent who has a love affair with an American agent. The similarities just kept coming and he was even marketed as the next Richard Castle. She thought it was business and didn't even bother tell me. I found out when I was doing press for _Gathering Storm._ I was furious with her and heartbroken. I was convinced this was her trading me in for the newer model. She denied it, but I was certan. So I stopped trying. The spats got worse, I didn't apologise for them. I lashed out through my work. She decided that I was too much of a child."

He gave Kate a wry look, "Neither one of us fought for that relationship," he admitted. "We got together for the wrong reasons and when it got hard, we got nasty and we walked away. And that is the story of why Richard Castle's second marriage failed, right from the horse's mouth."

Castle kept his eyes firmly fixed on his lap, waiting. He was sure his mother and daughter knew why the relationship hadn't worked out, but he'd never specifically told somebody. He'd certainly never told anybody as important to him as Kate. He felt thirteen years old again; sleeping in a dorm full of strangers who waited until the lights were turned off to bully him and make his life a misery.

She couldn't get this wrong. He looked so forlorn, like a puppy waiting to be kicked. Depositing the coffee cup on the beside table, she shed the blanket and climbed onto Castle's lap, her knees bracing his hips, face inches from his, hoping her physical proximity would help illustrate what she was trying to say.

"Castle, look at me," Kate said quietly, placing a hand on his face and tilting his chin. "I've loved you for a really long time," she began. "I started by loving the idea of you. The guy I made up in my head as I read your books. And then slowly, I fell in love with you. Not because you were successful or for anything tangible you could give me. I fell in love with you because of who you are. Rick; the dorky and devoted father, my best friend. The guy who fought to break down my walls when he had every right to walk away."

Her thumb brushed against his cheekbone and she gave him a reassuring smile, "That doesn't change when you tell me things like that. Things you'd rather keep hidden and pretend they had no part in forming who you are. They're the strings on the back of the tapestry. Without them, you're not the Rick Castle I love." She leaned forward and kissed him.

"I hate that I haven't been able to make a marriage work," Castle admitted. "All I ever wanted was to give my daughter a family and I couldn't even do that."

Kate's heart broke. He was such a good man. A dedicated father. "Honey," she breathed, the endearment slipping out before she could stop it. "Alexis has a family. You have given your daughter everything she has ever needed. Don't you dare punish yourself for that."

"I never wanted her to be raised by a single parent. My mother did an incredible job raising me on her own, but I always wondered. I wanted it all. The dad to play catch with me, to show me how to ride a bike and teach me how to throw a punch. I never wanted her to miss out like I did."

"Do you think Alexis would have benefitted from seeing you trapped in a loveless relationship? That girl has the world as her oyster and is brave in a way I wish I could be. Castle, that is because of you," Kate insisted. "You have always given your daughter the best that you could offer her, no matter the cost. You're the kind of Dad that after school specials are written about. I have no doubt that every kid Alexis has ever met is jealous that she has such an incredible father. All little girls think that their Daddy hung the stars and Alexis is no different. She doesn't care if you were married or not for her childhood."

Castle cleared his throat. "Alexis was fourteen when I told her that Gina and I were getting divorced. A week later, she commented that it was like I came back to life. The end of that relationship was a misery. I turned onto autopilot. It was a breath of fresh air when she finally presented me with the papers."

"I think that says it all," Kate murmured, her hand brushing through Castle's hair. "Alexis's first priority when it comes to you has always been your happiness. Why do you think she was so hostile towards me for so long? I made you miserable. She didn't want to see her Dad like that, so she took it out on me. The only reason she supports our relationship now is because I make you happy. The second that changes, she'll be out for my blood."

"You make me very happy," Castle responded, his hands slipping up her thighs. "Even happier when you call me honey," he teased.

Kate chuckled. Of course he heard that. "You like that?" she asked, softly beginning to plant kisses down his throat.

"I do," he replied, bracing his hands on her hips as he laid them both back on the bed.

"Well then, _baby_," she drawled playfully, "I guess I should do my best to make you as happy as I can."

* * *

Kate kept her fingers linked with Castle's as they rode the elevator up to the homicide floor, the residual feeling of closeness from their morning talk still lingering. . It wasn't until the doors began to open as they arrived that she gave them a gentle squeeze and let them drop. Captain Gates might know about their relationship, but Kate had worked for years to build her professional reputation and she wanted to maintain a clear distinction between her professional and private lives.

"Okay, guys, what have we got?" Kate asked, perching at the edge of her desk to peer at their still depressingly sparse murder board, Castle disappearing off to the breakroom to prepare hot cups of coffee.

"The only connection we have is the Kit Kat Club. They didn't work there at the same time, didn't live in the same parts of the city so its unlikely that they ever crossed paths," Ryan rattled off. "Spoke to a few of the girls that work there. Nobody had a bad word to say about either of the girls."

"Did we find anything in their financials?"

"Not a thing. Thandi had a healthy inheritance and Angelique was college student broke," Espo replied.

Kate nodded. "Kit Kat Club then. It's a burlesque place. All above board?"

Ryan shrugged. "I spoke to the guys in Narc. They call the guy who owns the place Teflon John. Mafia connections, the works. They've tried to nail him on drugs, dual ops with Vice, but nothing ever sticks to the guy. Both departments are sure there's something going down in that club, but they don't have the proof they need. But it's all bells and whistles on the outside. Real classy place."

Kate smirked. Of course Ryan knew all about how classy a joint it was. "Is there a reason we don't have this Teflon John in for questioning?" She asked.

"He's on vacation in Monaco," Ryan replied. "Figured we don't really have cause to extradite him. According to his PA, he's heard about everything going on here and is on the next flight back to quote 'clear his name and any associations that have been made with the club because of the murders.'"

Kate nodded. "Alert all the airports. We'll want to give him an escort home when he arrives to clear that name."

Ryan nodded. "Will do," he agreed, moving to his desk to make the calls.

"Lanie did a comparison of the autopsies. She claims that the knife used on Thandi was probably shorter and thicker than the one used on Angelique, but otherwise, she concludes that the same person committed both murders."

Kate nodded, chewing her lip as she studied the murder board. "Do you guys get the feeling we're missing something here?" She shot Castle a smile when he handed her a cup of coffee.

"It's staring me in the face. Are there any other cases matching this MO?" Castle asked.

"Nothing I've seen in the NYPD archives. But I agree. There is just too much going on in this case. There has to be something we're not seeing." She frowned when she saw Castle seat himself at her computer. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Research," he answered. "I'm telling you, the truth is out there. This case, I swear I've seen it somewhere. Or read about it. I just need to find where."

"Come on, Castle," Kate began, not wanting to waste time on one of his tangents.

"We're a body away from a serial," Espo pointed out quietly. "Can't hurt."

Kate sighed. They really didn't have anything else to go on. "Get moving on the research then, Writer Boy."

* * *

**There was CONSIDERABLE debate between the girls on my Castle facebook page as to what endearment Kate would use... I thought I would put it to you guys. If Kate was to use a particular term of endearment for Castle, what would it be? (Yes, I know she doesn't use them in canon, nor do I think she'd use them a lot... but colour me fascinated, okay?). I know this was very light on the case, but I'll be making up for that in the next few chapters (And I'm sure most of you like the relationship angle more, anyway :P)**

**Also- come and play!**

**Twitter/tumblr: brookemopolitan**

**Would LOVE to hear your thoughts!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Argh! I am so sorry for how long this has taken! First I move and then I started a new job which has had me run off my feet (I'm covering somebody's leave- teacher, for those wondering). For a little bit of compensation, this chapter is about 700 words longer than usual :)**

**Many thanks to Ky for kicking my ass re: adverbs**

* * *

The morning that "Teflon" John Ambrosino arrived on his flight from Monaco was, of course, the very same morning that there was a five car pileup when Kate was already running late.

"Of course," Kate sighed, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel with impatience while the bumper-to-bumper trafficked inched slowly forward. "Should have caught the subway."

"Oh come on, Kate," Castle teased. "Traffic is part of life in New York. Just embrace it."

"Not when I was supposed to be in interrogation twenty minutes ago," Kate replied tersely. She couldn't even throw on the gumball to cut through the traffic because there was literally nowhere she could move. The streets were completely gridlocked and sidewalks were full of pedestrians trying to get to work (smart enough to get on the subway instead of attempting to drive). Her phone buzzed and she answered with a brusque "Beckett."

"Beckett, he's lawyered up and they're demanding that we either start questioning him or let him go. They know we've got nothing to hold him on," Ryan informed her urgently, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Ryan, I could be hours," Kate sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. The importance of this interview wasn't lost on her. This case was rapidly turning cold and they needed a nugget of something to chase. They _couldn't _lose this lead. "You guys take him in."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." Kate knew that her boys respected her and treated her as the alpha female, but she also knew that they were both damn good detectives who were more than capable of handling this interview. "Don't screw it up," she ordered, a slight note of teasing in her tone, before hitting end call.

"The boys have got this," Castle reassured her quietly.

"They do," Kate agreed.

"But it's a tiny bit like watching your kid go off to school for the first time," Castle added hastily.

Kate scoffed. "I'll take your word for it, Castle."

* * *

When traffic finally started moving, Kate used every trick she'd ever learned to get to the precinct as quickly as she could. She had barely sat down at her desk, Castle darting away to make coffee (Kate had refused to let him grab coffee on the way, a decision she lamented as she sat in the traffic jam from hell) when she saw Gates stick her head out from the office. The Captain had been stuck at 1PP for well over a week now, attending meetings of one kind or another. "My office, Beckett. Now."

Kate could tell that her tone brooked no argument. Suppressing the urge to sigh, Kate smoothed a hand over the invisible wrinkles in her dark wash jeans and followed Gates into her office.

"Have a seat," Gates ordered.

Kate did as she was told, sensing that it wasn't the time to interject and it was best to simply allow Gates to unload before she dared open her mouth.

"I thought I'd be coming back to my office to find your termination. I was prepared to put Velasquez up for a promotion to Detective and I was trying to decide if Abbott or Costello was better suited for leading a team," Gates paused and looked over her glasses at Kate, "Detectives Ryan and Esposito have your suspect in questioning now."

"I'm aware," Kate replied meekly.

"I was prepared for that situation, I turn up to my office and there's no letter of resignation. They had that job served up for you on a silver platter. What the hell happened?" Gates asked.

"I said no," Kate replied, quiet but confident in her decision. She'd done her best to keep Washington's interest in her contained, but Kate had been expecting this conversation from the second she'd turned the job down.

"Why? That was an incredible opportunity. Jobs like that come maybe once in a lifetime and sometimes not even that often for a woman," Gates pointed out.

"Three years ago, I would have taken that job without question," Kate replied. "I agree, it was an incredible opportunity for a woman like me to be offered and I'll probably never get a chance like that again. But I'm not sure it outweighed what I'd be leaving behind." As she spoke, Kate could see realisation dawning on Gates' face. "I was going to have to give up everything I worked so hard for to start again at the bottom, become the token woman on the team and spend years combing financials and traffic cam footage in order to make a difference in the lives of people I'll never meet. I speak for the dead here and I get to give grieving families closure like I was never given. A fancy office in Washington just didn't have the same appeal." Kate looked out the window to where Castle had made himself comfortable at her computer, the furrow in his brow indicating that he was back at work, researching their killer

"He's a good man," Gates allowed.

"The very best of men," Kate replied quietly.

Gates gave Kate a knowing look, the closest thing to approval she was ever going to give their relationship. "Now, fill me in about this case."

* * *

Kate walked out of Gates office to see the elevator doors closing. John Ambrosino had strutted straight out of the precinct and she hadn't gotten to say a damn word to him. She hastened over to the boys.

"He's not our guy," Esposito answered before Kate could ask anything.

"What do you mean he's not our guy?"

"He was mid-air on his way to Monaco when Angelique was killed. Claims he wasn't at the club on the night of Thandi's murder…"

"That was over a year ago. Do you really trust that?" Kate interjected.

Esposito raised an eyebrow. "He was at Le Cirque with his now ex wife. They had a very public argument that was documented in at least three of New York's gossip columns, which Mr Ambrosino's lawyers were kind enough to provide us with copies of," he replied, handing Beckett a file. "We know that the murders were committed by the same guy. It can't have been him. He's just as freaked by the murders as anyone we've talked to."

Kate dropped the file. "So we're back to square one?" She confirmed.

"Not quite. I found something," Castle answered. "I knew I'd seen these kinds of murders before."

Kate came around behind him, scanning the screen he'd been studying so intently. "Jack the Ripper?"

"Greatest unsolved mystery of all time," Castle sighed, his tone a mixture of awe and disgust. He clicked over to a new page. "Check out the description of Annie Chapman."

Kate breathed in sharply. "It sounds just like Angelique's murder," she murmured.

"Right down to finding her in between houses," Castle agreed. "And look at this," he clicked again, bringing up a series of grainy images from a British archive.

Kate was grateful for the lack of clarity in the photos Castle showed her. They were eerily similar to the photos of Thandi Plumnam. Kate buried her head in her hands. "Both of our victims match up almost exactly with one of the murders that took place in Whitechapel in the 1800's."

"Does that mean we're looking at another nine murders?" Ryan asked.

"Actually, there's only five canonically accepted Jack the Ripper victims," Castle interjected. "Ripperologists agree that the other six victims were copycats of the original Jack."

"So we're actually only looking at another three murders then?" Espo asked sarcastically.

"All the victims of the Whitechapel murders were prostitutes. Angie and Thandi both worked at a burlesque club. The place is a little risqué, but they're hardly hookers," Kate pointed out.

"Maybe our murderer doesn't think so?" Castle suggested.

"Then why only these two? If they're all as good as prostitutes, why wait a year between killing victims? The original murders happened in the space of a few months," Kate pointed out. "We gotta talk to Gates. There'll be a mass killing on top of a potential serial killer if we keep her out of the loop on this one."

* * *

They had to wait it out. There was nothing to be done. Media attention had to be kept to a minimum. Technically, the two cases, whilst clearly related, were not cases of serial killing and it had to be kept strictly quiet. Every jurisdiction in New York City had been informed of the MO of their killer and any calls with a body drop were to be forwarded to the 12th. Copies of all the information found at the crime scene had been sent away to a psychologist for profiling. The profile had been of little help. Their murderer was most likely a loner, unlikely to have had stable male influences in their life and probably had a domineering mother. So basically, every single guy to ever show interest in a club which featured girls dancing in feathers and not much else.

They'd been forced to let the case lie dormant; there simply wasn't enough evidence to pursue an active line of investigation. The geographical profiler insisted that their Jack was a local and probably lived in a close vicinity to the club, so there was very little chance that bodies were going to pop up around the country.

They'd fallen back into the routine of paperwork and the occasional pop and drops when the call came.

Kate startled as she woke up. She wasn't supposed to be on call. Her phone was buzzing and it was 3.40 am. Something had to be very wrong at the precinct. Castle let out a sleepy groan beside her. "Shh. Go back to sleep, stud," she soothed him gently, scratching her nails along his scalp before attempting to slip out of bed to take the call.

Castle let out a moan of protest. "No!" He whined thickly, catching Kate around the waist with sleep heavy arms, shifting so his head rested on her lap. "Stay," he murmured.

Kate felt a tiny thrill of affection course through her. Tracing one hand up and down his spine, she answered the call.

"I know you're not on call," LT prefaced hastily. "But a body dropped from that case."

Kate's hand stilled. "Shit," she sighed, letting her head drop back against the headboard. "Text me the address. I'll be there ASAP."

Placing her phone back onto the bedside table, she squeezed Castle's bare shoulders. "Castle, you gotta let me up. A body dropped."

"We're not on call though," Castle muttered, tightening his grip.

"I know," Kate agreed. "It's Jack," she informed him, tone grave.

Castle abruptly sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "I'll get the coffee started."

* * *

Castle discreetly hid a yawn as they crossed the street to the crime scene.

"You know you could have stayed in bed, Castle," Kate pointed out, taking a sip of coffee.

"Are you kidding me?" Castle responded. "No way am I leaving you alone on this one." He took the opportunity to give her elbow a gentle squeeze, the only show of solidarity he could manage under the circumstances before stepping back to a more professional distance as they approached the crime scene.

"What do we have, Lanie?" Kate asked, squatting down next to the body.

"Her skirt was up over her head when we got here," Lanie replied. "Her throat has been slit twice and she's got one huge incision down the length of her abdomen. A few slashes either side," Lanie recited, pointing at a few of the lacerations. "Not enough blood for her to have been killed here."

Kate looked up at Castle. "Does that match any of the Whitechapel murders?"

Castle cleared his throat. "Matches up almost identically to the murder of Mary Ann Nichols," he answered. "How long has she been dead, Lanie?" He asked.

Lanie checked her watch. "I'd say about half an hour, but I'll know once I get her back to the morgue."

Kate stood up, gesturing for the boys to come over. "It's official," she informed them. "We're hunting down a serial killer."

* * *

Gates met them in the precinct just before 5am. She'd first ordered that the precinct remain on lockdown and made it clear that if any one of her cops spoke to the media they'd be on indefinite suspension.

The boys began to go through the employment records from the Kit Kat Club to identify the third victim. Like Angelique, she'd been murdered with no ID on her and they needed to figure out who the hell she was.

Kate was rapidly collating the information they did have, preparing herself to brief the mayor and the police commissioner. She cracked her neck trying to relieve the headache she could already feel building up.

"Take a break," Castle murmured, placing a piping hot vanilla latte and a fresh croissant, still warm from the tiny French bakery he frequented, on her desk. "You're no good to anybody exhausted."

Kate sipped at the coffee, tearing a corner off the croissant. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "Aren't you supposed to be Skyping with Alexis today?"

"In about an hour," He replied.

"You haven't spoken to her in three weeks, Castle. You're not talking to her in the stairwell of the precinct," she informed him. "Go home, take a shower and make yourself look semi presentable. We will be fine here and you won't miss much, I promise."

"Are you sure?" He asked her.

"I'll be briefing the brass. There's no new information to be shared."

Castle nodded. "Knock 'em dead," he said encouragingly, taking advantage of their newly exposed relationship to press a stubbly kiss against Kate's cheek.

* * *

The pastries that Castle had supplied before he left had long gone cold. The briefing had been successful; the team at the 12th had been given carte blanche to catch Jack (a nickname that Kate was fine to use), before the case went Federal. After they left, the team sat and attempted to brainstorm their next move.

"Okay, so no CCTV footage of any use at any location," Ryan rattled off.

"And with what we know of Jack the Ripper, there's at least two more victims out there," Esposito added.

"Thandi Plumnam," Kate recited, tossing a photo onto the desk. "Angelique Mendoza," she placed another image down, "and now Georgia Brownlow," she added, placing down a photo of their third victim. She was pure peaches and cream, tall and slim with a dancer's physique. "The only connection between the three of them was that they work at the Kit Kat Club. Beyond that, we've got nothing. They don't match a physical MO, don't live in the same area, different ages and they don't even look like the original victims." She ran a hand through her hair. "We've got to get into that club."

"That would be a terrible idea," a voice from the doorway called out.

Kate turned around. Standing in the doorway was a guy in a suit, well over six feet tall and domineering.

"And who the hell are you?" She snapped, testy from lack of sleep.

"Agent Adam Marshall, FBI," He replied, holding out his credentials. "I've been undercover in Ambrosino's establishment for eleven months now, trying to get a lock on the cocaine deals that we know he's got going out of the place."

"Congratulations," Kate said sarcastically, handing back his ID. "What does that have to do with my triple homicide?"

"You guys nearly blew my cover the last time you came down there, asking questions. Come down there again and over a year's worth of work is for nothing and you fuck me right up the ass," he responded, looking straight past Kate and giving their sparse murder board a look of disdain.

"I'm so sorry that a serial killer on the loose is inconveniencing you, Agent Marshall," Kate snapped. She was tired, she was stressed and she was in _no_ mood to deal with a jurisdictional pissing contest. "Three women are dead and their corpses have been mutilated. Would you like me to hold off investigating that because the timing doesn't suit you?"

Agent Marshall loosened his tie and helped himself to a seat, grabbing a fruit tart. "Actually, the FBI is prepared to cut a deal with you."

* * *

Kate tiptoed quietly into the loft. She wasn't sure if Castle would still be Skyping and if he was asleep, she didn't want to wake him. Once the FBI had been dealt with, Gates had ordered them home to get some rest. She stowed her handbag in the closet and slipped off her shoes as she spotted Castle sitting at the breakfast bar, typing away.

Sneaking up behind him, she traced her nails up his ribs. "How's Alexis?" she greeted him.

Castle quickly hit save, snapping his laptop shut before turning on the stool and pulling Kate into an embrace. "She's good," he answered. "Freckly and I suspect stinky. But having the time of her life."

"Good," Kate responded, squeezing him tighter. After the morning she had, she just wanted a second to absorb his warmth. "I need to talk to you about the case."

"Are there any new developments?" Castle asked.

Kate gave a mirthless chuckle as she pulled away from him. "You could say that," she said with a wry grin. "I'm going undercover."

He reacted exactly as she expected him to. This was like DC all over again. She could see his defences rise up. "You've already decided," he surmised. "Without telling me. Again." He stood up and strode towards the door. "I need some air," he muttered.

"Castle," Kate called after him. "Don't walk away from me," she snapped, her hackles slightly raised. "Don't you think you should listen to what I have to say?"

"What is there to listen to? You've decided and you didn't bother to ask what I think. It's just what you do, Kate. I shouldn't be surprised," he responded sharply grabbing his keys and opening the front door.

"And that's what you do, Castle!" Kate growled after him. "It gets hard and you walk away. You get hurt feelings and you abandon ship. You think this is the way toward a healthy relationship? Man up! Stay here and _listen _to me!"

"Listen to what, Kate?" He roared in response. "Listen to the stories of how you're going to be Super Cop and not even consult your partner? You can't keep doing this Kate! You're supposed to consider your significant other, not just mention it when you feel like it!"

"I don't have a choice! Do you really think I want to go back to being treated like a piece of ass because of my job?" Kate spat back. "This is the first opportunity I've had to tell you! Don't you dare act like I deliberately kept this from you."

"Bullshit!" He snarled. "You always have a choice."

"Really? Because the conversation between Captain Gates and Agent Adam Marshall of the FBI didn't really take my choices into account," she barked. "The FBI have been running an undercover op out of the club for close to a year now. If the NYPD wanted to keep jurisdiction of the case, we have no choice but to investigate from the inside. Meaning that someone from the 12th needs to go undercover. Given my track record in Vice, Captain Gates volunteered me."

She watched him take a step back into the room, relieved that he was actually starting to listen to her. "They debated it like I wasn't even there. Traded me like chattel. What was I supposed to do? We couldn't lose that deal."

"And nobody else can do it?" Castle asked. His tone was more measured. Kate could tell he was abandoning his emotionally response, calming himself down enough to at least consider her argument.

"The boys have all been seen down at the club. They'd know they're cops," Kate replied. "Karpowski nearly got herself shot on her last undercover op. Castle, three girls are dead and there is nobody else who can do this." She sighed, "I'm going to take a bath." She stripped off her shirt, tossing it on the floor as she walked away. "Come and talk to me when you're willing to actually listen to me," she called over her shoulder.

* * *

***ducks***

**So... Jack the Ripper, huh? A few of you cottoned on right away. ARE YOU FEELING VINDICATED NOW? There is some seriously cool research out there about him and I'm learning a lot (and scaring the shit out of myself at 11.30pm as I'm writing, but that's a different story)**

**Any thoughts?**


	5. Chapter 5

**I started a new job (short term teaching block) and I had writer's block. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Good news? Its school holidays and that means I should have more time to write (though I have had three one shot prompts thrown at me, so who knows?)**

**I don't own, guys.**

**Much gratitude to Ky and to all my facebook ladies. You know why.**

* * *

She'd done it on purpose. Left a trail of her clothes across the apartment like a tantalising path of breadcrumbs to come and find her. She was right to be upset. He'd been a total jerk to her. He tapped against the door. "Do you mind if I come in?" He asked.

Kate opened her eyes and twisted her head to look at him. "Are you ready to talk?" She inquired.

Castle padded into the room and seated himself next to the tub, sitting down by her feet so he could face her. "I was an ass."

Kate shrugged, the movement of her shoulders sending a ripple through the thick blanket of bubbles floating across the top of the water. "You were," she agreed. "When I was in Vice, nobody took me seriously. It was no secret that I was only there because I was the only one who could go undercover and look believable. It had nothing to do with the fact that I worked my ass off; that I was a damn good cop. All I was good for was being a pair of tits on legs, and every single person in the department made sure I knew it."

"I never knew that," Castle commented.

"It's not something I tend to celebrate," she drawled, flicking a bubble his way. "I made detective and transferred departments. As soon as I got there I cut off my hair and started wearing turtlenecks. Anything to take attention away from the way I look. I wanted to be taken seriously as a cop," she flicked her eyebrows at him. "And I was. I'm the youngest woman to make detective in NYPD history. People look at me and they respect me. Now that's all about to disappear."

"It's not about to disappear," Castle interjected.

"Castle, it was like I wasn't even there. Gates refused to let me have a word in. Now I get to go back to being that cop who shakes her ass for a living. I'm not going to lie to you, it hurt that your first reaction was to assume I wanted it," she added, her slightly shuddering breath the only indication that she was close to tears.

"I'm sorry, Kate," Castle apologised softly. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

Kate gave him a watery smile. "Get in the tub, Castle," she ordered.

She was warm and pliant, her skin slippery from the fragrant bubbles she'd added to water. She slid against his chest; head pressed into the crook of his neck and interlocked their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is why you said not yet, isn't it?" Castle asked.

Kate pondered the question. "It's a huge part of it," She admitted. "We keep having this fight. A fight that is entirely my fault. I've spent so long keeping you at arms length that you just assume that I deliberately keep you out of the loop. I know it's bad when your girlfriend does it, but how much worse would it feel if it were your fiancé, or your wife doing it?" She paused, wondering how far she should push this. "We can't keep having the same fight Castle, because one day, one of us is going to decide that having the same fight over and over isn't worth it and Rick, I don't think I would survive that."

Her use of his first name caught his attention. She was deadly serious as she continued. "I know that I did this. I know that I've basically taught you to assume I'll shut you out, but I promise you I'm trying."

"I wouldn't survive it either," he admitted, tightening an arm across her midsection and drawing her as close as the tub would allow. "And I know you're trying."

He paused, drumming his fingers along the edge of the tub. "When Alexis was six, she came down with a fever. She was dizzy, claimed that she was achy all over and couldn't move off the couch because she was so drowsy. She kept asking for a bucket because she felt like she was going to be sick and then she'd forget that she'd asked for one. She asked me for a bucket four times in a half hour. I freaked out," he admitted, embarrassment at his own dramatics evident in his tone, even after twelve years. "I ignored my mother telling me that she was in kindergarten and had picked up a bug. I was convinced. My baby had meningitis. I dragged her out to Lennox Hill. We sat in Emergency for hours, me panicking to the point where I could barely hold it together, Alexis begging me to take her and Monkey Bunky home because she wanted her bed, not scratchy hospital sheets."

He felt Kate begin to trace her nails up and down his forearm, then a slight brush of her lips against his jaw, silent encouragements to continue offering up these pieces of himself. "She had the flu," Castle recalled. "Just like my mother and the paediatrician told me. But my head went to the worst-case scenario. Like it always does. I get an idea in my head and I fixate on it until I've convinced myself its true."

"Aliens, mafia hits, CIA conspiracies, zombies and a haunted DVD. I can't say I noticed," Kate responded, a teasing note in her tone. "I get it, Castle," she added, squeezing his fingers.

"I love you," he offered quietly, desperate to try and remind her that he really did care and he wasn't just an insensitive ass.

"I know," Kate replied. "I love you too."

* * *

Kate sat at her desk, flicking through page after page of research. The more she read, the more agitated she became. As well as being on top of all the Jack research and knowing as much as she possibly could about Ripperology in the vain hope that she could pre-empt his final two victims, Kate was also desperately trying to understand the world of burlesque and everything associated with it so that her cover wouldn't be blown on the basis of her ignorance.

A variety show designed to create laughter and poke fun at serious works she could deal with. Clicking over to that video of Dita Von Teese… Kate sighed. There was a lot of work to be done.

Castle had come home from a long and tedious meeting with Paula regarding the launch party for _Deadly Heat _(he honestly didn't care about the ins and outs of planning the party. He just wanted to know what date he had to put on a suit and smile for the cameras), surprised to find the loft empty. Espo had given him the heads up that Kate had ducked out of the precinct early (she'd been taken off active investigation in order to prepare for the undercover op) and he had assumed it was so that she could do research from home without her coworkers hanging over her shoulder, passing judgement on the type of op she was setting herself up for.

* * *

Her handbag was on the couch, though. Castle knew she couldn't have gone far. Her running shoes were also missing, giving him an idea of where she might have gone.

Castle stepped into the elevator, riding it down to the third floor. When Kate had first stayed with him after the Nikki Heat bombings, she'd checked out the building's gym with unadulterated awe. Then she began ribbing him shamelessly and telling him that he should make better use of the state of the art equipment before eating like a cop damaged his ruggedly handsome physique.

He found her there, balancing precariously on a bright green stability ball, contorting herself into shapes that did _not_ look comfortable. "Didn't expect to find you here," he commented.

"Yeah, well," she exhaled sharply, shifting so that her head almost touched the ground as she balanced on her forearms, legs above her head but bent at the knee, moving her ankles to cross over each other rhythmically. "I've gotten pudgy," she replied, breathing back in and extending her legs over her head, before rolling back to the starting position, fingertips on the floor, hips balancing on the ball, her legs extended and creating a straight line with the rest of her body.

"You have _not_ gotten pudgy," Castle replied, his tone sharp, completely shocked to hear Kate admit to body insecurity. Truth be told, he'd spent a stupid amount of time worrying about how thin she'd become after the shooting, privately finding it ridiculously sexy that his girlfriend not only loved to cook, but loved to eat hearty meals, and didn't spend hours deliberating over the calorie count of a salad.

Kate could only manage a noise of disbelief. Evenings spent running through Central Park or doing yoga in her living room had become nights where she ate pasta and drank wine, cuddling on the couch until she crashed. She was paying for that now, cursing quietly for letting herself become so weak. She felt her core muscles shaking and almost give way as she attempted another rep of the grasshopper sequence.

Abandoning Pilates for the moment, she stood and moved over to the chin up bar. "You cut your hair," Castle marvelled from behind her.

Kate shrugged. She'd stormed out of the precinct and into the first hairdresser she'd seen, settled into the chair and demanding that they cut off all her hair and dye it dark. She hadn't looked in a mirror since she'd left the salon after a hasty dry off, throwing it into a ponytail and changing into workout gear. She'd headed to the gym, where she had been working herself to the bone for close to two hours. "I'm going undercover, Castle. I can't look like me. And I sure as hell don't look like any of the girls who worked in that club." Locking a grip onto the bar, Kate hoisted herself up into a chin up, the burn through her upper body serving only to motivate her further.

"You're still alive, so you're right. You don't look like those girls," Castle agreed, totally baffled by Kate's insecurity, particularly given that they'd established that their Jack wasn't going after girls based on them fitting a physical mould, the multiracial group of victims proving it.

He could see Kate rolling her eyes as she pulled herself up, the cropped work out top she was wearing creeping up just enough so that he could see one of the lines that would mark her ribcage forever. "Kate, stop," he requested quietly.

"I'm fine, Castle," she replied, dropping from the bar and picking up a twenty pound kettle bell and wrapping her arms around it, dropping into a squat.

"You're not fine," Castle replied. Kate only closed her eyes, dropping into a deeper squat, pulsing halfway up before dropping back down, her face twisted into discomfort.

"Don't do this, Kate. You're the one that insisted that we get all our skeletons out of the closet, but now that it's hard for you, you're closing up again. That is not fair and you _know _it."

She was hiding behind those few bricks of the wall that remained and they both knew it. Pushing her was going to do nothing. In fact, it would probably do the opposite of what he intended. After four years he'd finally figured out that trying to push Katherine Houghton Beckett into doing something was the worst possible thing to do; all it did was make her cling stubbornly to the path she had placed herself on. She had to be persuaded, tempted off the path. Since his proposal attempt, she'd been the one to take the lead when it came to opening up and sharing secrets. She'd been the one drawing him out, letting slip slivers of her history, all the while encouraging him to be brave enough to do the same.

He had to be brave enough for the both of them now. "I hate this, Kate," he confessed, not reacting as she dropped the kettle bell, flopping onto a mat and setting herself up into a plank position. Her breath came in short bursts as she fought not to drop down to her knees. "I hate that you're being thrown into the lion's den, all alone. I hate that you're being put into an environment where you're not immediately going to be recognised as being the formidable woman I know that you are." He could see her frame shaking, but he determinedly soldiered on in his confession. "Most of all I _hate_ that I can't be your partner in this. I've had your back for five years now Kate, and now I can't. This guy, whoever he is, has murdered and mutilated three women and now we're throwing you at him like bait and there's nothing I can do and no way I can support you as you do it and I hate how powerless that makes me feel."

Kate dropped to the ground, completely spent. "So you're not just pissed that I'll be walking around with next to no clothes on?" She asked him.

"I'm not particularly looking forward to it," Castle admitted. "But at the risk of sounding like a complete chauvinist, you're my girl and I know that. Those guys can look all they like but it's my bed that you wake up in and my ring that you wear around your neck. I'm more pissed that you're walking around with next to no clothes on because of how it makes you feel." He handed her a water bottle, sitting down next to her on the floor.

She accepted it from him gratefully and took a sip. "I know that my scars are a sign that I've survived and I should be proud of them and whatever other Hallmark crap you want to spout, but I hate them. They're a part of me forever now, whether I like them or not and I accept that. But it doesn't mean that I want to show them to just anybody." Kate sighed. "I've done the research. I'm not pale and curvy and voluptuous. I'm not going to fool anybody."

"Kate, they'll be too busy looking at your legs. They go on for days," Castle reassured her, pulling her to sit up and face him. "For what it's worth, I think you're gorgeous. I see the way people stop and stare when you enter a room. I know you know how to use that to your advantage. A lesser woman would have crawled into a hole and given up if they'd ever had to deal with all that you have. But you've used it to make you stronger."

Kate blushed and he could tell that she was about to duck her head and bite her lip, shying away from the compliments he was lavishing on her. He reached out and pulled her hair out of the ponytail, running his fingers through her sweaty hair. "I like it," he murmured, twisting a short chestnut curl around his finger. "Reminds me of when you first let me back into the precinct. But less mullet-y"

"I did not have a mullet!"

* * *

**So, I'm officially that asshole writer that doesn't respond to reviews. But I cherish them all and will make every effort to reply to any I get for this chapter. I also really appreciate that so many of you are so lovely in your reviews and don't use the review box as your space to rant about how you dislike what is happening on the show (because believe me, guys, if I controlled that I wouldn't be writing fic for free) or that you dislike the whole concept of the fic (why read a fic about an undercover case if you don't like them? IDGI). You're absolute legends and it is only your support that has stopped me from throwing my hands in the air and packing this whole fic in.**

**so much love to you all!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here we go, guys. Chapter 6... moving into club land now.**

**Disclaimer: I was annoyed when I got spoiled. If I owned Castle, would that be a thing?**

* * *

The FBI had been damn efficient in getting her identity sorted out, that much was certain: driver's licence, social security, passport, fake resume, the works. As far as the world was concerned, Natalia Moroz was a real person. Emigrated from Ukraine as a teenager, she was a proud green card holder and working on becoming a fully-fledged US citizen. She lived alone, the remainder of her family back in the Mother Country.

Everything was set; Kate just had to go to the club and apply. Marshall had sworn blind to her that he would get her the job. The FBI agent was clearly an incredibly gifted undercover operator. In just eleven months, he'd managed to get Teflon John's ear and had most of the club under his unofficial control. He would have no problems in making sure that Sam Manning, the talent and employment manager of the club, employed her.

Her new wardrobe. Kate sighed. It was awful .The power heels remained, but her beloved dark wash jeans and slick button downs were replaced by dresses that screamed "daddy issues". "I can do this," she muttered to herself, slipping into the Ukrainian accent that she'd spent years perfecting. "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this."

She was still critically studying her wardrobe when she heard Castle clear his throat from behind her. "You okay?"

Kate turned to face him. "I'm fine," she replied, still maintaining her velvety accent. "I don't think there's anything else I need to do. I'm ready for this."

"I hope you're ready," Castle agreed, coming up behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs gently massaging the base of her neck. "Because the boys have invited themselves over for a cocktail night."

"Of course they have," Kate muttered.

"I think they just want to boss you around."

* * *

The impromptu cocktail party was in full swing. Lanie was knocking back margaritas as quickly as Kate could make them, the boys trying to throw her with the strangest named drinks they could think of.

Martha had glided in, all Chanel Number Five and pearls and the second she'd realised what was happening, she'd become the life of the party. She'd been attending every social event on the calendar of late, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, subtly drumming up funds for her acting school. She'd barely been home and was only vaguely aware of the details of the case and Kate's undercover work.

"Now Katherine, darling, when is it that you're going to give up the charade and just move in here already?" Martha asked, chin resting on her hand as she watched Kate whip her up a Sidecar.

Kate froze, the glass that she'd been rimming with sugar nearly clattering out of her hands. Castle was on his way over, empty martini glass in hand (he was insisting on drinking vodka martinis, shaken, not stirred, like he was actually James Bond or something). She couldn't be caught having this conversation with Martha without having it with Castle first. He deserved to be the first one to hear what she had to say, straight from the horse's mouth.

Castle stepped behind the bar, neatly depositing his glass on the bench. "Its not something we'll consider until after Kate finishes with the op," He answered smoothly. "It blows her cover just a little if the people she's working with see her come home to here."

Kate raised an eyebrow at Castle. He just shrugged. "You after another?" she asked him.

He brushed a kiss to her cheekbone. "I'm good for now. Gotta check on the canapés," he told her. Kate suspected that this cocktail party had been planned (without her knowledge) for quite some time. He gave Martha a significant look. "You girls play nice," he warned them.

Kate popped the mixing glass from the mixing tin and carefully strained Martha's cocktail. Martha took a sip, mulling over it like an expert connoisseur. "You'll fool 'em, kiddo," she decided.

Kate gave her a relieved smile. Most of the work she did undercover in vice was as a patron, not as staff and Natalia's resume claimed that she had worked in bars for ten years, so it was comforting to know that her cover wouldn't be completely blown as soon as she tried to mix a drink. "Do you have any advice?" Kate asked shyly. "I'll be playing a part in there; it can't hurt to hear what an actual actor has to say, right?"

Martha swirled her drink in her glass, pondering the question. "Accept information presented to you," Martha suggested. "And know your character's history." Kate nodded, watching Martha step into her theatre coach persona. "Present truth, darling. If your character is real to you, she will be real to your audience."

"Thank you, Martha," Kate sighed gratefully. She scanned the room. This was her life now. The boys from the precinct who'd always had her back, her formidable best friend who'd never once let Kate for second best, all seated in the home of her favourite writer. This was the family that she'd built for herself.

"You're good for my son," Martha informed her, looking over to watch Castle work the room with a tray of bruschetta. "Kyra was infatuated with my boy, but she was far too young to know what she wanted and how deeply she'd wound him when she left him behind. Meredith was a self-centred, gold digging hussy and Gina was a band-aid solution for all the things Richard was too scared to face." Martha put her cocktail glass down and grabbed Kate's hand. "Katherine, you force my son to be better. He has become a better father to his daughter, and a better son to me. He has become the man I have always dreamed he would be and it's entirely your influence. Take care of him, please."

"I will," Kate answered, a heavy weight of responsibility settling over her. She was confident Martha knew about the ring and Kate was certain that this was the only blessing from Martha that she would ever get. "I promise you that."

A smile broke out across Martha's face. "Fantastic," she decided. "Now darling, pour yourself a drink and join the party. All work and no play makes Katherine a dull girl." She gave Kate a wink, grabbed her cocktail and glided over to the centre of the room.

* * *

Kate finished her nightly routine, padding out to the bedroom almost silently, her feet bare. She slipped between the sheets, content to watch Castle as he readied himself for bed.

She let her eyes slip shut, waiting for the rustle of Egyptian cotton and dip of the mattress to let her know that he'd climbed in. She rolled onto her side when he joined her, her nails tracking absentminded trails up and down the inside of his forearm. "Did you mean what you said? About when we'd move in together?" she asked him quietly.

Castle rolled to face her, all traces of mirth absent from his eyes. "Kate, if I had it my way, the day I gave you a key to the loft I would have been putting all your shoes in boxes as well," he informed her, hand tracing up and down her side. "I want you here. Now more than ever. But I know you can't. What if you end up sharing a cab home with one of the girls from the club? I'm not risking you being made because I want you in my bed." His hand stilled on her hip. "I've waited five years for this. I can wait until you catch this guy. This is not going to be the difference between you being safe or not."

"This case isn't a reason for me not to move in," Kate told him. Seeing her heels amongst his Italian leather derby shoes, washing his jeans with hers, hell, even their perfectly coordinated evening bathroom routine sent warm little thrills up and down her spine, uncaring that she was acting like the biggest girl on the face of the earth. "This is where I want to be, Castle. This is home. It has been for a while." She paused to press a kiss on his cheek. "For long term undercover work, I'm supposed to be given temporary lodgings, so my work doesn't compromise my life. I wasn't really planning on making use of it unless I had to and I'm here most nights anyway."

"Yeah, don't think I haven't noticed you overtaking the entire bathroom." Castle grumbled. "Are you saying you want to move in?"

Kate considered teasing him about the amount of money she could spend on shoes if she stopped paying rent for her place. Instead, she didn't deflect her nerves with sarcasm and decided to be brave instead. "I'm saying I want to move in."

Castle pulled Kate against his chest, lips brushing against her forehead. "Goodnight, Kate."

* * *

Kate fidgeted with the hemline of her dress for the third or fourth time. Pulling on it wasn't going to make it any longer. She was just going to have to fake confidence in the scrap of a dress she was wearing.

She knew all of Castle's neighbours would stare and she couldn't bear the idea of Eduardo (who had held her hostage, showing her photos of grandchild number two just last week) calling her a cab.

She picked up the pile of paperwork that identified her as Natalia Moroz, slipped it into her handbag and made her way out of the bedroom.

"You are going to knock them dead," Castle encouraged her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

Kate placed her handbag on the couch and reached behind her neck to unclasp her chain. "Take care of these for me?" she asked him, placing the necklace in the palm of his hand.

"Only until you're wearing one for real," he replied.

Kate smiled. "I can't wait," she told him. She mustered up a smile and managed to throw him a saucy wink, before pressing a kiss to his lips, snagging her handbag and strutting out the door.

* * *

Agent Marshall had given her the heads up. The Kit Kat Club wasn't just a seedy strip club; it drew on the traditions of Bohemian Paris and aimed to provide a world where you could forget who are, even if only for a night.

That explained the ritual to get inside the place.

Kate tapped three times on an antique iron knocker. A tiny peephole opened, and a pair of chocolaty brown doe eyes inspected her.

The door swung open. "Can I help you?" The woman at the door asked. She was Gil Elvgren's wet dream. Tall, voluptuous, her dark hair styled in two perfect victory rolls.

"I heard there might be a job available?"

The woman looked her up and down, all spitfire and sass. "Come through."

The main hallway was lush, scarlet damask wallpaper and black and white framed images of burlesque queens (Kate spotted Bettie Page, Gypsy Lee Rose and Lili St. Cyr, grateful her research wasn't for nothing).

"One minute. I'll have to get Sam for you," the woman informed her, striding away before Kate could say a word.

The bar was deceptively bigger than she'd thought. She spotted a dance floor and several tables set up for blackjack and poker. Not far behind was a doorway that she assumed was not an exit but rather the gateway for more private pleasures.

The rest of the club was designed to face the stage. All the tables and chairs were neatly arranged in semi circles, presumably so scantily clad waitresses could drop off drinks without distracting from the main show.

The only exit Kate could see was the door she'd entered through. Surely there was a staff entrance somewhere backstage.

"Carmen told me you're here about a job?" A voice came from behind her.

Kate nearly jumped out of her skin and whirled around to face the bar. "Hi," she greeted the tall, rail-thin man. "I'm Natalia," she informed him, handing him a copy of Natalia's documents. "You're Sam, right?" she asked.

"That's me," he replied, pulling out her resume from the folder.

She was just about to launch into the story of how Michael Guetti (the FBI's own Agent Adam Marshall) had given her the heads up about the job, but the man held up a pale, long fingered hand as he scanned the front page of her resume.

"Talia, darling," he purred (Kate taking note of the stereotypical "gay man lisp" accenting his words). "When can you start?"

Kate shrugged, flipping her hair in that Natalia Moroz made appear totally natural. She chose not to question the ease with which she got the job, particularly without the intervention of Marshall, instead choosing to take a leaf out of Martha's book and accept the information presented to her. "Is tonight too soon?"

* * *

Carmen was who Kate had pegged as the person most likely to be her nemesis in the club. She couldn't have been more wrong.

"We all play our parts, you know?" Carmen explained as she took Kate's measurements for her uniform. "People come here to escape whatever monotonous crap makes up their life." She found a few outfit pieces and handed them to Kate, gesturing for her to step behind the silk screen and change.

"We give them that and I've never seen a person not get sucked in by the fierce-girl act, you know?"

"So you're saying if I play the innocent, newly-arrived immigrant girl I'll have them eating out of the palm of my hand?" Kate asked, stepping out from behind the screen, clad in the sexed-up tuxedo and suspender stockings that made up the cocktail waitress uniform at the Kit Kat Club.

Carmen handed her a pair of black stilettos, adorned with tiny sequins. "You could," Carmen agreed. "But I say you're better off as the Russian Ice Princess. Don't act like you're affected by the money or the bling or whatever and they'll be clamouring to impress you."

Kate let out a chuckle. "I'm Ukrainian," she pointed out.

Carmen shrugged. "I'm from the Dominican Republic, not Brazil like most people who come in here assume. They're in fantasyland here. They don't need to know that the heels we wear make our feet ache or that they're not as charming as they think. Let them believe what they want to."

Kate stepped over and looked at herself in the mirror. "Damn. I look like I belong here," she marvelled.

Carmen grinned. "Well, almost," she decided. "We need to sort out your hair."

Kate sat obediently still as Carmen attacked her hair with a set of hot rollers.

Kate inspected the dressing room. On the wall nearest the door, there was a collage of Polaroids. "What's with the pictures?" she asked.

Carmen shrugged. "Any time a girl does a solo for the first time, she gets a photo up there," she explained, placing the last roller in Kate's hair with a flourish. "It's been a tradition for as long as I've worked here."

"So, the dancers. Do they hate the waitresses?" Kate asked. She needed to get the lay of this place, fast. No way was she going to find herself in the middle of a catfight and be unaware.

Carmen laughed. "Places like this aren't quite as dramatic as movies would have you think," she grinned. "Most of the dancers were waitresses at one point."

Kate raised an eyebrow at the rapt expression on Carmen's face. "And you want to be next?" she asked.

"Of course I do," Carmen answered. "I've been training as a dancer since I was six. One busted tendon and now I can't go to ballet school. This is the next best thing."

Kate gave her a sympathetic smile and sat quietly, content to let Carmen dictate the conversation.

"I suppose you want to know about those girls, huh?" Carmen asked after a few minutes, moving to her makeup kit to start getting Kate ready.

Kate was desperate not to overplay her hand. She gave what she hoped was a mildly interested shrug of her shoulders and then nodded. "I can't help but wonder," she confessed. "But don't upset yourself on my account."

"Those girls didn't deserve what happened to them," Carmen said fiercely. "Everybody loved them here. They were butchered and the cops have done nothing to solve it. They've come in once and asked us a bunch of useless questions. How the hell would I know if somebody here likes slicing people up?" Carmen paused. "People look down on girls like us because of our job. But we're not prostitutes. Despite what they might think, we don't ever hear pillow talk that could be of any use. So they asked us stupid questions and gave up. Thandi, Angie and Georgia just ended up being the poor dumb strippers who got cut up and that's not okay with me because they deserve better."

Kate knew she couldn't rise to the defence of the cops at the Twelfth. "That's scary," she admitted, faking a shudder.

"It is," Carmen agreed. "Sam doesn't like us talking about it. He says it upsets his delicate constitution. I just thought I'd tell it like it is."

Kate nodded, taking in Carmen's words. "Can we talk about something else?" She requested mildly.

"No problem," Carmen replied. "Why don't we start with your makeup?" she suggested, holding up a wicked looking pair of false eyelashes.

* * *

**Just so you know... Sam looks like Alan Cumming and Carmen is modelled on Zahira Kelly (a real life pin up model)**

**I know I'm a little behind on this fic, but I have posted 2 one shots lately. One is called "Where I'm Supposed To Be", which is a mega fluffy family fic and the other was co-written with the amazing AnniexMuller, called "Playing the Game of Thrones".. which oddly enough is actually about C&B watching Game of Thrones. Feel free to check those out and let me know what you think!**

**I've also had some requests for this fic to be bumped up to an M rating (for sex :P). I leave that up to you... yes or no to being more explicit (or are we happy fading to black?)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm not even going to make excuses. Unfortunately, my real life had to come first, but thank you all for your lovely words. Long story short is that this fic is not going to be close to being finished by the ficathon, which is cool. It also means that I'm not bound by a word limit and I'm free to tell the story as authentically as I can, which is fun. **

**I did post two one shots though (I go where the Muse leads) so feel free to check those out.**

**We're in M territory, guys. I originally wrote a non M ending to this chapter, but it didn't feel authentic, so the rating got bumped up accordingly. Those who aren't M fans, feel free to skip the last section.**

**Thank you to Ky for the M whispering (hands! Hands everywhere) and beta work. You rock. Thank you also to Bec for being my rock over the past few awful weeks. You're awesome.**

**I own everything. YES IT'S MY FAULT THERE WAS A CLIFFHANGER. MWAHAHAHAH FUCKING HA. (jokes. I own nothing)**

* * *

Once she looked like a certified Kit Kat Kitten, Carmen ordered Kate to put on a pair of flats and head out to the bar so that they could run through all the basics. Kate could feel her head spinning, trying to remember the correct place for each and every spirit bottle, mentally repeating cocktail recipes to herself. She resisted the urge to shake her head at the ladder that they used to climb up and grab bottles from the top shelves…clearly just a chance for patrons to get a flash of panty. This place really was all about the tease.

It wasn't until Carmen sent her to fill up buckets of ice from the machine in the back storeroom that Kate let her character drop, if only momentarily.

The amount of information she'd absorbed in so short a period of time was overwhelming. Carmen opening up and discussing the murders with Natalia so quickly was a total wildcard, but every instinct in Kate's body screamed that Carmen was just a girl who was grieving the loss of three of her friends. She didn't know anything of any use. All Kate could do for now was collate the little information she did have and keep her eyes open. The night was young and the club hadn't officially opened. There was still plenty to be learned tonight.

A hand grabbed Kate's arm. Her most natural response in an unfamiliar and potentially unsafe environment would be to break said hand, but instead she schooled herself into Natalia's character and turned on her heel.

"What the hell, Beckett?" Marshall growled, the tightly contained rage in his voice echoing throughout the storeroom.

"What the hell, what?" Kate replied, wrenching her arm from his grasp. She'd had it up to the back teeth with this guy. She knew he was damn good at what he did, but that didn't mean that he got to treat her like shit during this joint op.

"We agreed. I was supposed to run interference for you. That was the plan. Do you go rogue just for shits and giggles?"

Kate had to fight not to laugh out loud. "You're kidding, right?" she asked. "I came in and handed my resume over. Before I could give them the cover story, Sam asked me when I could start. I figured it would sound a little bit strange if I didn't immediately say yes."

Marshall's eyes narrowed. "Why would he do that?"

Kate scoffed. "Maybe they're understaffed. Maybe he figured advertising for a bar attendant at that club where girls keep getting cut into a thousand tiny pieces would be a tough sell. Maybe he just liked the shape of my ass," she suggested. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. We needed to get me inside and we did; without arousing suspicion and without any conflict. Leave the rulebook at home and trust your gut." She gave him the Beckettiest eyeroll she could manage, picked up the buckets of ice and strutted out of the room.

* * *

The Ice Princess act seemed to be working. Kate barely said a word to anybody, merely giving them a mildly disinterested look as they rattled off their orders. If she were actually a waitress, she would have been very happy with the amount of tips she'd earned. Carmen had been totally correct; the more bored and disinterested Natalia seemed with the clientele, the more they clamoured to impress her.

She stood silently, tray balanced on one hand as a table full of guys she recognised from Bobby S's former crew (who had apparently managed to skip jail time) grabbed themselves shots of Don Julio Real. She was turning to walk away, nose in the air when one of the guys grabbed her by the arm. "Stay where you are," he growled softly.

Kate felt his gaze on her, his cold blue eyes ravenous as he inspected her frame. She refused to shudder under his inspection, well aware that he was picturing her naked. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him, forcing her to bend forward. He roughly brushed her hair off her neck and without even bothering to ask, ran his tongue along the column of her throat.

Kate was frozen in place. She was in complete and utter shock. She itched to place this guy's nose on the inside of his head, but knew she couldn't. She felt salt being poured on the wet line. Kate Beckett would never allow some scumbag to treat her like this. But she wasn't Kate Beckett tonight. Natalia needed this job. Natalia couldn't slap this guy. Kate steeled herself up for the second run of his tongue on her neck. There wasn't going to be enough showers in the world for her to feel clean after this.

She felt a tip get shoved into her bra and a slap to her ass. Apparently she wasn't needed any longer. All the blood rushing to her face, Kate stalked away. She dropped her tray on the bar. "I'll be back in a second," she murmured, barely looking at the person standing there.

She ducked through the door behind the bar to the employee change room and bathrooms. Turning the tiny faucet on to hot and cranking it as high as it would go, she used wet paper towels to scrub at her neck. She could feel her erratic breathing rattling in her chest and she forced herself to calm down before she sent herself into a full-blown panic attack.

She felt like a dirty napkin. Used, and then thrown away without a second glance. A chill racked through her body. She felt just like she had on that first op with Vice. She quickly checked over her shoulder, confirming that she was alone before ducking over to the tiny locker she'd been assigned, making quick work of the combination and pulling out her phone.

There were barely two rings before he answered. "Can you really not go four hours without speaking to me?" he teased.

Kate instantly felt her heart rate drop. She knew feminists everywhere would be disgusted at her escape to call her boyfriend, but she didn't care.

"Kate?" he asked. "Kate, is everything okay?"

She heard the panic in his voice and broke out of her reverie. "Hey Castle," she sighed in Natalia's voice. "I'm okay."

"Any reason for your call?" he asked.

There was no way she could give him specifics. He'd be down to the club in minutes. "Just wanted to hear your voice," she admitted. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"I wish I were there," Castle admitted.

Kate chuckled. "I kinda wish you were here too." She squared her shoulders. She could do this. "I've gotta get back out there," she told him.

"You're extraordinary."

Kate cancelled the call before she could get sappy.

"You okay?" A voice called out.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Kate responded, throwing a tiny bit of anxiety in her tone. Natalia probably shouldn't be caught on her phone during her first shift.

"Nah, I'm sorry," he replied. "You got Sullied."

"Sullied?"

He nodded. "James O'Sullivan. Thinks he's king shit because his sentence was overturned on a technicality. He's running Bobby S's crew straight into the ground. John is content to sit back and watch him burn. But he won't stand for anybody treating the girls like that. Not even James O'Sullivan."

"He does that a lot?" Kate asked hesitantly.

"Oh yeah," Sam replied. "Getting Sullied is like a rite of passage in this place, no matter how gross." He walked over to Kate and adjusted the slightly askew flower in her hair. "You're good at this, Talia," He told her. "Now fix your lipstick, pull yourself together and get your ass out on the floor."

* * *

There had been no run-ins after that. O'Sullivan had attempted the same trick on her again, but the Ukrainian curse that she'd spat at him through gritted teeth seemed to have done the trick and he left her be. Technically, Kate couldn't remember the direct translation of what she'd said, but she was fairly sure there was something about his mother and her penchant for bestiality, but she took the moral high ground and ignoring his misogynistic catcalls at the dancers onstage.

The dancers were incredible. Lithe-limbed and ruby-lipped, Kate couldn't help but stop and stare as Miss Noir Rouge slowly peeled off one white satin glove. She felt a responsibility to her. Three of their own had been stolen off that stage and it was Kate's job to bring the bastard who did it to justice.

Other than that, all Kate could do was keep her eyes peeled. There didn't seem to be anybody in the club that matched the profile of their Jack, but she didn't believe that he'd suddenly disappeared. She'd just have to be more vigilant.

* * *

"So, how did you find your first night?" Carmen asked as she was cashing up the final till.

Kate shrugged, hanging up the martini glass she'd been polishing. "I survived it, I guess. I might even come back for more."

"I'm glad," Carmen shot her a grin. "Most of the girls who work here are babies, you know? Some of them aren't even legal. It'll be nice to have somebody around who has actually seen a little bit of what life is like, you know?"

"Carmen, you're like, twenty five. You're not that old."

Carmen scoffed as she slid the till back into the register (apparently if they got broken into, a stolen till tray was cheaper to replace than a register that had been smashed open), bagging the rest of the money for Sam to put in the safe. "I turn twenty seven on the 30th of September, thank you very much!"

Kate raised an eyebrow, recalling a detail from Natalia's identity. "Hey, that's the same day as me," she commented lightly.

"Blah, blah, blah, that's very touching, ladies, but can we drink now?" Sam asked, tucking the bag of cash under his arm. "You know my regular, Carmelina Ballerina."

Kate discreetly checked the time. It was after five am, and her cop instincts were at war with her own private desires. Detective Beckett knew that she should stick around for as long as she was welcome, if only to solidify her still somewhat tenuous position in the club's structure. Kate was being a total sap; she wanted a shower and to fall into bed in the loft that would soon be home.

"Pick your poison, Comade," Carmen ordered, flipping a tequila bottle behind the bar.

The decision was made, then. "Whiskey and apple juice," she said decisively.

* * *

They had gotten themselves well and truly giggly by 6am, when Sam had suggested that they move along to the local diner, because he needed pancakes.

"Now, now, my treat ladies," he insisted, signalling to a waitress and plunking himself down in a booth. "You both deserve some deep fried carbs after the efforts you put in."

Kate's curiosity was piqued, so after the waitress wandered away, their orders scrawled on a pad, she raised the subject in the most discreet way she could. "I don't mind paying for breakfast," she hedged. "I don't know what effort you're talking about."

"Babe," Sam sighed, grabbing her hand where it rested on the table. "I was completely effed. The club was in total freakin' shambles. Girls suddenly not wanting to work at the club, John was hell pissed he had to cut his trip to Monaco short, the works. Poor Carmen here has been pulling double shifts for me because she's a gem and she cares about my sanity. Then you came along, looking exactly how I wanted the new girl to look and you were willing to start right away and you didn't run away screaming after the James O'Sullivan incident," Sam waggled his finger. "You deserved every single drink Carmen poured down your throat, and you deserve a few sausage links on me. So take it, bitch."

Kate dropped her head, faking modesty on Natalia's behalf. "You guys are nice," She murmured. "I just want to do a good job."

The moment was completely shattered with the arrival of their coffee. Kate took a long sip, an idea formulating in the back of her mind.

"So who was that you snuck off to call?" Carmen asked, raising an eyebrow at Kate as she added sugar to her coffee.

This was _so_ not part of Natalia's backstory, but what choice did she have but to go with it? "My boyfriend," she answered, fixing her eyes on the salt shaker and raking a hand through her curls, trying to make Natalia seem as shy as possible.

"Tell me more," Sam demanded. "My love life is drier than a post-menopausal woman's vagina."

"Ew, Sam," Carmen interjected. "You don't get to be obnoxious about vaginas just because you don't like them." She turned to Kate. "Spill," she ordered. "How long have you been together? Do you live with him? Does he care about the job?"

Kate sighed, attempting to look put out. "A few months, I suppose," she replied. "He'd only care if I started taking my clothes off, you know?"

"So you don't live together?" Sam surmised.

"Not yet," Kate answered. On a whim, she added sullenly, "He has to leave his wife first."

Carmen and Sam let out a perfectly timed, scandalised gasp. "Natalia!" Carmen wheezed, quasi horrified.

"I'm clutching my pearls here!" Sam added.

"This is not a big deal," Kate insisted, surprised that the fake detail she'd dropped was so shocking. "Can we move on?" She asked. "Carmen, why the hell are you stuck behind the bar?"

"I was hired as a waitress," she sighed. "Sam says that the bar will fall apart without me."

"But the second somebody gets a mysterious bout of food poisioning I'll throw her on the stage, where she'll totally kick ass," Sam added, elbowing Carmen lightly. "Do you dance, Talia?"

Kate shrugged. "Around the house, I guess," she replied. "My boyfriend would _kill _me if I even considered it."

"I don't believe you," Sam sighed. "I saw you swaying your hips to the beat of the music all night and you've got legs for days. I'd love to see them in a martini glass."

* * *

Kate slipped gratefully out of her high heels before she tiptoed through the door of the loft. Her feet were aching. Bar work was _hard_. She knew she should be exhausted, but a strange exhilaration that she couldn't quite explain thrilled through her veins.

The sun's rays were gently illuminating the loft and Kate knew that she should crawl into bed and sleep, but she was keyed up in a way that would have her lying awake for hours. She felt like a rookie again, crawling into bed well after dawn, thrilling with the exhilaration of undercover work.

She smelled like the inside of a bottle. No matter what time it was, she _needed_ to shower. Castle slept like the dead… she smiled in his direction as she crossed to the en suite, knowing he'd snore right through it.

Kate crept into the bedroom, not bothering to dress after her shower. She was just early enough to beat the alarm that she _knew_ he'd snooze four times before he actually woke up. Flicking the alarm off, she studied his face. He was sound asleep. "Castle," she sighed in his ear. "Castle, wake up," she insisted, gently nipping his earlobe. He barely stirred. It was time to take some more drastic action.

Her mouth slowly moved down the column of his neck, laving wet kisses against his skin. Her nails traced patterns down his side, the quivering of his muscles under her fingertips proof that even in sleep, she could draw a reaction out of him. She reached the waistband of his boxers. "Castle," she sighed breathily. He twitched slightly and she knew she finally had him. Her thumbs slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear, pushing them down around his knees and she gripped his length, her ministrations already starting to make him hot and hard in her hand. Ever so slowly, she started to trace his circumference.

There was no way he was still asleep. He was playing possum and they both knew it. Kate smirked. She adjusted the pressure ever so slightly and picked up the pace of her ministrations, her other hand moved lower, cupping him in her palm. His eyelids fluttered. She knew it wouldn't be long before he gave up on the charade altogether, but she was going to have her wicked way with him in the meantime. She moved her lips to _that_ spot on his clavicle (the one that never failed to elicit a reaction), fondling his testicles as she twisted her wrist. That drew a moan out of him, but he still hadn't opened his eyes.

"I know you're awake, Castle," she murmured, continuing her attentions as she grazed her teeth against his earlobe. He was still refusing to give up the act. Keeping one hand on his shaft, her movements all but stilling, she began to trace patterns on his inner thigh. She watched his Adam's Apple twitch slightly as he swallowed and she let her fingers wander up to the sensitive skin of his perineum, gently massaging the nerve-packed flesh.

Within seconds, Castle had flipped her onto her back, her wrists pinned above her head. "Good morning, Castle," she purred, arching a brow at him, issuing a silent challenge to do his very best.

He kissed her. His mouth met hers in a messy, wet, frantic moment, desperately attempting to reconnect after he'd been forced to sit on the sidelines as she ventured into the lion's den. He tasted the bite of whiskey and the tang of apple in her mouth, feeling the desperate clinging of her fingers on his shoulder blades.

"Did you kick ass?" He asked, brushing kisses along her cheekbone.

"I kicked ass," she confirmed, pressing her hips closer to him, hoping he'd take a hint.

"Oh, Kate," he sighed, lavishing kisses against her skin, his palms leisurely reacquainting themselves with the curves of her body.

"Say that again," she requested quietly. At his curious look, she smiled shyly, refusing to be embarrassed around him. "Say my name again, Castle. Remind me that I'm still me."

"You're Katherine Houghton Beckett," he reminded her, pausing to draw one of her nipples into his mouth, grinning when he drew a breathy moan from her throat. "Owner of the most perfect breasts I've ever seen," he announced, moving to pay due attention to her other breast. "You're a survivor," he added, pressing a kiss to the scar on her chest. His hand traced down the centre of her stomach. "You're stubborn and I find that sexy." His fingers slipped between her legs, finding her wet and ready. He grabbed one of her legs, hitching it around his waist. "Compassionate," he added, grinning like a cat that got the cream when she slid her leg up to hook over his shoulder. "Kate," he breathed, slipping into her warm, wet heat. "I love you, Kate."

Almost of their own accord, his hips began to move, driving into her tightness. "My Kate is affectionate in a way I never expected," he told her, "Completely uninhibited in the bedroom, which I am not complaining about," he added, increasing his pace and driving his pelvis into hers, hand slipping between them to press against her clitoris. "Kate," he sighed, as she threw her head back that way that he knew was a sign that she was close. "Kate," he repeated, frantically working at her clit, laying kisses against any skin he could get his lips onto, repeating her name like a mantra. Her orgasm came on like a freight train, hitting her hard, her eyes flickering shut as she rode out waves of pleasure, the fluttering of her inner muscles pushing Castle over the edge, until stars exploded around his eyes as she blew his mind, yet again.

He gently disentangled her leg from his shoulder, affection coursing through him at her blissfully sleepy post-orgasmic state. "Do you really think that much of me, Castle?" she asked, burrowing into the pillows, her eyes slipping shut.

"I think the world of you, Kate," he replied, pulling the twisted blankets up to wrap around her naked body, conscious about her sensitivity to the cold. He knew her day was ending just as his was starting, and that the right thing to do would be to get some coffee going and make a head start on planning out his next novel. But for now that could wait. He ran his hands through her hair as she drifted off to sleep, watching over her as the lines on her face smoothed out, purely his Kate, no hint of Natalia lingering in her eyes, and all her worries disappeared, her breathing deep and even.

He was going to take a moment, purely because he could, to sit with his extraordinary girl.

* * *

**I'm just going to go... hide, over there *points*... I hope people are still reading this!**


	8. Chapter 8

**OH MY GOD LOOK HOW FAST I UPDATED. What's that about? I don't know either! Let's just go with it...**

**Thank you for the AMAZING response to the last chapter! You guys all rock!**

**Thank you Ky, for your beta work :) and for the whole story coaxing thing ;)**

**Don't own, don't hate.**

* * *

It had been a long time since Kate had woken after 1pm and she was surprisingly well rested for somebody who had slept most of the day away. She padded out to the kitchen, clad in Castle's robe. "Morning," she greeted him, voice still husky from sleep, stopping to brush a kiss against his cheek as she made her way to the coffee machine.

"Afternoon," he replied with a wink, looking up from the salad vegetables he was slicing.

She barely stifled a yawn in response as she pulled the milk out of the refrigerator.

"You want breakfast?" Castle asked her.

"I'm fine," Kate replied, neatly filling the portafilter with ground coffee and clipping the handle into the machine, hitting the button that made the coffee happen. "I grabbed breakfast with Sam and Carmen before I came home," she replied, frowning as she frothed milk. "But that lunch does look good," she hinted.

"You're already in with the cool kids then?"

She shrugged. "Seems like they were pretty desperate for staff." She sat at the breakfast bar, stirring her coffee. "It all fell into place really quickly, so I'm just riding the wave while I can, you know?"

"So in a week you'll be running the place?" Castle asked.

Kate licked the spoon. "Only if I'm really lucky."

* * *

In a scene of shocking domesticity, they cleaned the kitchen together after lunch.

"Are you writing today?" Kate asked, bumping her hip against his as she neatly stacked plates in the cupboard.

"Trying to," he grumbled.

"You can't have writer's block already," she sighed. Castle could be unbearable when he was blocked up; she couldn't imagine how bad he could be if his block had started before the story had.

"It's not that," he hedged, looking slightly sheepish. "I've got the worst headache," he admitted. "Don't call me old!"

Kate chuckled. "I won't call you old," she promised. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to come over to my place and help me start packing?"

He pondered the suggestion. "You know, I can almost feel the headache improving."

* * *

In some ways, Kate wondered what had taken them so long to bite the bullet and move in together. The only clothing that remained in her apartment was her out of season apparel (neatly stored in boxes beneath her bed), her most spindly and work inappropriate shoes, and a few cocktail dresses that really didn't get the love that they deserved.

It was an odd feeling, packing up her life. Her apartment was a veritable bower bird's nest and she wondered how the mismatched little knick knacks that she'd collected over the years would blend into the interior designed-to-perfection loft.

"What are you going to do with this place?" Castle asked, neatly wrapping ornaments in newspaper and stacking them into a cardboard box.

"Rent it out, I suppose," Kate replied. "Took me long enough to find it, I don't think I want to give up the investment."

"So you do own it," Castle confirmed.

"I do." Kate grabbed packing tape, neatly putting together a box from a flat pack. "After the bombing, my insurance company didn't want to pay me out for all the damage. So I gave Dad the contract. He went through the whole thing four times, found a technical loophole and they were forced to give the insurance payout. Dad was a bulldog when it came to me getting that money. I spent all of Mom's life insurance on that apartment; no way was he going to let it go up in smoke. I planned on finding a place to lease, but I found this place and fell in love."

Castle cleared his throat. "You know we're going to have to talk about money at some point, right?"

"I know we are," Kate replied. "I'm not under any allusions about the differences in our pocketbooks and I know we need to figure out what that means for us. But for now can we just happy-bubble us moving in together?" she requested.

Castle put down the ornament he'd been wrapping and moved over to where Kate was standing. "I'm so excited about this." He cupped her cheek in his palm, brushing his lips against hers. "This is it."

Kate felt a smile creep across her lips. Suddenly matching interior decorating tastes seemed relatively minor by comparison to forever. "Can you pack the books?" she asked him. "Some of those ornaments were my Mom's, so I'm going to be a little pedantic about how they're packed."

Castle nodded, moving toward the stairs. Her book collection was prolific. Nikki fit into the box next to Harry Potter and a few autobiographies. The copies of his novels that he'd given to her as a housewarming gift after the bombing incident had clearly all been read, the spines cracked but all in good condition.

Tucked away behind all the other novels, however, was a ragged looking copy of _Kissed and Killed. _"Why do you have two copies of this?" He asked. "This was not one of my finest works and I think we all know it."

Kate looked up from where she was padding wrapped packages with bubble wrap. "Open it up and take a look," she suggested.

Lifting the front cover, Castle saw his own signature, a generic "thanks for reading!" scrawled across the page. "When was this?" he asked.

Kate pondered the question. "The October after it was released, I think." Maybe it was time she let him know. "You've known for a while that I'm a big fan, but do you know what your books really did for me?" She asked him.

"I know that they helped you when your Mom died," Castle replied.

Kate nodded. "Will told you, didn't he?" At Castle's nod, she smiled shyly. "He gave me so much crap for using the only day I had off in a month on going to your signing," she recalled.

She stood up and pulled Castle toward the couch, curling against the arm, Union Jack pillow pulled onto her lap. "The one happy thought I had after Mom's death was that the cops would find the guy that did it and that we'd get to be the family who saw the bastard brought to justice. It wasn't much, but it was what I had," she began. "Then we were informed that it was gang violence. Everything fell apart after that," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Dad was drinking before we got the phone call, but after that, he didn't even bother to hide it. He was a mess and I was no better. I joined the Academy and there was nothing that was going to get in the way of my goal."

She felt his hand on her knee, tracing circles, silent encouragements to keep talking. "I knew where I was headed, but I needed something in the meantime to distract me from how much I was hurting. There was no way I was going to drink." She felt her eyes becoming moist and she couldn't quite make eye contact with Castle. "I walked past a bookstore one night. It wasn't a franchise, just a tiny hole in the wall run by a family. I'd always liked reading and I figured it couldn't hurt. I went in and told the clerk I didn't care what it was; I just wanted something that would suck me in so much that I couldn't put it down and I could escape for a few hours. She gave me _A Rose For Ever After,_" Kate smiled, secretly amused at the way that he lit up when she mentioned one of his books. "I didn't sleep that night. Or terribly much over the next few weeks. Every time I felt like I was going to get swallowed up by that black hole of grief, I'd run to that store and buy another one of your books. They made me feel a little less empty inside."

"I didn't recognise you," he muttered. "You're supposed to be my muse and you got another generic autograph."

"Why would you recognise me?" Kate asked. "I was just another fan. Back then, I was just a broken-hearted girl living a shell of a life. Believe me, I was not Nikki Heat in those days. You were kind to me, though, and it helped."

"I'm glad," Castle sighed in relief, leaning forward to press a kiss against her cheek.

"Those books stopped me from drowning in grief, and Derrick Storm was there when I finally realised I needed to step away from Mom's case. He was there when I was getting clean, for want of a better term, and I freaked out when I discovered that you'd killed him off," Kate smiled shyly, tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. "So the thing is, Castle, you've been there for me longer than you've ever realised. You, by virtue of your writing, got built up into my mind, which is why I was so hostile toward you."

Castle had been struck dumb. He couldn't articulate just how humbled and honoured he felt, being entrusted with such a deep part of Kate's soul. "Thank you," he breathed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. "I'm so flattered, Kate and I'm so grateful."

For somebody who had lived in fear of letting somebody in for years, building up walls for her own protection, there was something shockingly liberating about letting all of that go and allowing herself to be vulnerable before somebody; laying bare pieces of her soul, with no motivation other than wanting to be herself in the purest form. "You knowing these things about me feels good," she told him. "I like letting some skeletons out of the closest." She abandoned the pillow she'd been fiddling with, wrapping her arms around his shoulders instead. "I'm glad we're doing this."

* * *

With her shelves in the living room packed, Kate insisted that they move to her bedroom. They hadn't decided what they'd do with her apartment, so she figured she was best to get all of her personal belongings into boxes and out of the place before she had real estate guys coming through. "Castle, can you please grab the boxes from the top of my wardrobe please?" She requested. "My arms aren't long enough."

Castle nodded, moving towards her wardrobe. Kate settled on the floor next her bureau, sorting through the jewellery she's accumulated over the years. She was startled from where she was concentrating on untangling two chains when she heard Castle groan. "Are you okay?" she asked him, dropping the necklaces and moving over to his side.

"I'm fine," he replied tightly, shifting his shoulders and stretching.

"That didn't sound like you were fine," Kate replied, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Don't worry about it," he insisted. "What the hell is in there, anyway?" He asked.

Kate recognised his deflection, but chose to ignore it. "My _Nebula 9 _merchandise," she replied. "Don't you roll your eyes," she added, frown creasing her brow when he displayed his obvious distaste for her beloved TV show. "You had no problems taking full advantage of my cosplaying history." She flicked her eyebrows for emphasis. "You do _not_ get to tease me about my show. Not when you still haven't revealed yours."

He squared his shoulders. "_Gilmore Girls_," he replied, every inch the cocky jackass she'd met five years ago.

Kate barely suppressed a snort. "Seriously?" she asked.

"Lorelai Gilmore is my Spirit Animal," he replied, not even a hint of mirth in his eyes.

Kate could only raise an eyebrow. She didn't want to openly mock his television viewing habits…but seriously? She was beginning to question his taste.

"Your next day off we are watching it and if you tell me that you can't see Alexis and I written all over that show, I'll call you a liar," he defended himself.

"Just as long as there is no dressing up," she told him.

"Nah, I'll leave that to you," he teased.

Kate retaliated by ripping open one of the boxes and pulling out a creaver mask, slipping it over her head and moving towards him.

* * *

Getting out of the door to get to work was made significantly more difficult by Castle constantly grabbing her by the waist and pressing his lips to hers, making her feel like she was sixteen years old again, making out with her boyfriend and praying that her father wouldn't walk in. In a show of incredible self control, she eventually found the willpower to break away, giving him one last final kiss and then a hefty shove away from her before he could cause her to be late

Something was definitely off when Kate walked up the street towards the main entrance of the club. There were a ridiculous number of black SUVs on the street. Kate frowned. Something was going down with the FBI and Marshall hadn't even bothered give her the heads up. Typical Fed.

She walked down the alley that led to the staff entrance, surprised to see Carmen waiting outside, cigarette butts littering the ground around her feet. "The place is crawling with cops," Carmen called out to her, pulling a pack of Marlboros out of her bag. She offered Kate the packet. At a shake of Kate's head, Carmen lit up and took a drag. "Nobody's told me anything beyond not being allowed to go inside. They've had Sam in questioning for an hour now."

"What could they have found?" Kate asked, careful to remain in Natalia's husky tones. "Everything seemed above board to me."

"Who knows?" Carmen asked. "I know John has his fingers in a lot of pies, but he's smart enough to let other people take the fall for him."

The door swung open. A ruffled looking Sam stepped outside. "Hey girls," he greeted them both. "Just go home," he told them. "There's no way we're opening tonight. All I know is that the FBI are looking into something to do with drugs or something. I don't know anything about it, but John is going to be hella pissed, so get out of here while you can," he insisted, ushering them both away from the door.

"Do they really think a there's a drug ring going through the club? When would we have time for that shit?" Carmen asked, pausing to drop her cigarette butt on the ground.

"They won't be asking me anything, will they?" Kate asked, pushing Natalia's anxiety into her voice. "I've just started there and I don't want any trouble!"

"Relax, Tahlia," he drawled. "You'll be fine."

Kate made a show of checking her watch. "Well, if I don't have to work, I have places to be…" she trailed off.

"Such as?" Carmen asked.

Kate shrugged, twirling a lock of hair around her finger in a way that only Natalia could. "My boyfriend is home by himself and he's lonely. I might go do something about that," she said coyly, raising a hand to hail a cab, giving them both a wink as she jumped into the car.

* * *

The loft was silent as Kate walked in. Martha was clearly out for the evening, but the keys in the bowl suggested that Castle was home.

She tiptoed through the loft and found him sitting at his desk, head resting in his hands. "Hey," she greeted him softly.

He looked up, squinting. "You're home early," he frowned.

"The feds clearly had enough evidence to shut down whatever drug cartel they were investigating," Kate told him. "It would have been nice if they'd let me know about it, too."

Castle shrugged, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Kate hastened over to his desk, perching on the edge. "Castle, you're not okay," she murmured.

He groaned. "My head hurts," he whimpered.

Her heart lurched. Dammit, she hated seeing him in pain. Slipping off the desk, she perched herself in his lap, her long fingers slipping through his hair, pads of her fingertips gently massaging his scalp.

"Feels good," he mumbled, tipping his head back so that he could take full advantage of the delicious pressure of her hands on his skull.

Kate leaned forward, peppering tiny kisses on his jawline, eager to try and soothe his pain. "C'mon stud," she murmured. "You're not doing any writing tonight."

Linking her fingers with him, she led him to the bedroom. Usually, when she undressed him, there was urgency about it, her fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to get him naked so that she could have her wicked way with him. Tonight was different. Her only thought was soothing him as best she could.

Once she had him in bed, she coaxed him into taking a couple of Advil, a bottle of water placed at his bedside table. She placed a cool washcloth on his forehead; fingers gently massaging his temples, watching with a detective-trained eye to see the wrinkle in his forehead begin to relax.

"Thank you, Kate," he sighed, eyes closed, his body becoming slack with sleep.

"Don't mention it," she replied. "Just go to sleep."

* * *

**Come and play with me on twitter! brookemopolitan**

**Would love to know what you think! Any suspicions?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Aka, the M-est M I ever wrote. Seriously, still blushing.**

**Castle is three weeks away. Am I the only one totally NOT COPING?! (Don't own)**

**KY! MWAHHHHHHH YOU ROCK!**

* * *

Kate tiptoed around the bedroom, trying to throw together an outfit that wouldn't draw any unwanted attention, as she tried not to wake Castle. The text message that Captain Gates had sent her announcing that they needed to meet, with the address for a seedy Queens diner clearly brooked no argument. It was disgustingly early in the morning, but Kate didn't care. She'd spent most of the night lying awake, vacillating between worry about Castle and his mysterious headaches, and silently stewing that she'd been completely blindsided by the raid, before she'd even come close to finding something that could be called evidence.

Tugging on a pair of jeans, she flipped blindly through the closet, grabbing a hoodie and slipping it on, before shoving her feet into a pair of flip-flops. She honestly didn't care if she was hopelessly mismatched; all she wanted was to fade into the background, if only to cover her own ass.

"Kate?" Castle mumbled, voice husky with sleep. He ran a hand over his face and sat up. "It's six in the morning. Why are you dressed?"

"Gates sent me a text," she answered, sitting down next to him, her hand coming to rest against his neck. "We've gotta meet. I might actually get a straight answer about what the hell happened last night." She scratched her nails against his spine and stood, snagging her wallet and keys from the bedside table.

"Be careful," Castle murmured.

"Always am," Kate sassed him, shooting him a cheeky wink.

He seized hold of her arm, pulling her back to sit on the bed. "You're on your own," he reminded her. "Be careful," he emphasised, his hand firm against her wrist.

She gave him a soft smile. She was aware of how he protected the people he loved and she knew that he _hated _being relegated to the sidelines, forced to sit back and watch her in the thick of things. "Always," she soothed him, pressing a kiss against the curve of his mouth. "I shouldn't be long," she promised. "Then we can get your ass to the doctor."

* * *

It wasn't until she was on the subway that she realised that she'd pulled on one of Castle's hoodies in the dark. Like a pathetic teenage girl, it made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. She rolled up the sleeves as she stepped onto the platform, pulling the hood up over her head. The whole process felt ridiculously cloak and daggers, especially given that her investigation had probably been shot in the face, but she figured it was wise to take precautions regardless.

Stepping into the café, she spotted Gates sitting at a booth near the back, clear distaste for the seedy location showing all over her face. Kate slunk into the seat, slouching so that her head was mostly obscured by the back of the booth.

Gates held up a hand. "I'm as in the dark as you are, Beckett. I have no idea what the hell happened to make them move so fast," she prefaced. "But is your cover blown?"

Kate shook her head. "I'm good," she responded. She gave the waitress who came up to serve them a tight nod before requesting a cup of black coffee. She waited before the waitress was at least five steps away before she continued, "as far as any of the people who work at that club are concerned, Natalia is just a girl who is desperate for work. At least as far as I know, my cover is completely intact."

Gates nodded. "Good," she answered. She paused for a second. "I know that I threw you under a bus when I volunteered you for this op," she began. "This is the kind of op that makes cops legends. Don't think I'm disappointed in you because you didn't go to DC." Gates took a sip of her coffee. "I have no doubt that you can do this."

Kate accepted the cup of coffee the waitress served her gratefully. It was way too early in the morning for a conversation this deep and she sipped at the caffeine greedily. "That means a lot," she offered quietly.

Gates only nodded in response. They both turned towards the door when they heard the tinkle of the bell on the frame.

Marshall stormed into the diner, calling out to the waitress for coffee as he strode towards the booth. "We got played," he announced as he sat down at the table.

"What do you mean?" Gates demanded.

"I mean that John Ambrosino knew the entire time that I was a cop. He pumped me full of false leads and when we finally pounced on them, we came out with nothing," Marshall answered savagely. "He played us for damn fools and now the FBI looks like a pack of fucking idiots to every gangbanger on the East Coast."

"What does that mean for my investigation?" Kate demanded.

Marshall set down his coffee cup after taking a loud slurp. "You think I give a shit about your investigation? I just wasted eleven months of my life."

Kate was totally done with this asshole. It was not her problem that he was clearly not as good at his job as he'd made himself out to be. She was just about to unleash some vitriol on him when Gates interjected. "My detective managed to get herself into position without relying on your cover. She's already begun establishing relationships and even with your failed bust, she's in place to continue investigating an active serial killer. The only reason you have to pull the pin is that you're not in place anymore." Gates raised an eyebrow, daring him say something. "The FBI blocking this investigation is tantamount to saying that allowing a serial killer to walk free is acceptable. Is that the message the FBI is sending to the community? Because I'm sure the _New York Times _would love an anonymous tip telling them exactly that."

Gates was good. Kate marvelled at the way her boss had played Marshall like a fiddle. She crossed her arms, content to sit back and watch as Marshall floundered, struggling with how the hell to deal with the wrath of two NYPD cops.

* * *

Kate arrived home to an empty loft. Checking her phone, she saw that Castle had actually texted her, informing her that he'd called his doctor's office and they'd had an early appointment free, and that he'd let her know what the doctor said.

Kate was just fixing herself some yogurt and granola when she heard the apartment door open. Castle stomped into the kitchen, a pout fixed on his lips.

"What's the matter?" Kate asked, her tone slightly teasing. She was certain that if something were seriously wrong, she would have gotten a phone call a lot sooner. She strongly suspected that her partner was just sulking.

"He says I need glasses," Castle grumbled, his bottom lip threatening to hit the ground, he was pouting so hard.

"Oh, Castle," Kate sighed, abandoning her breakfast and striding over to him. She could tell he was more than a little insecure about what the doctor had told him, but she also knew that indulging his little tantrum too much would come back to bite her in the ass. Resting her arms on his shoulders, she felt his hands come up and span her hips. "Talk to me," she insisted softly, bumping a kiss against his stubbly cheek.

"I just don't want to," he whined. Kate looked at him, waiting for him to move past his funk and start using his words.

"This sounds so stupid," he admitted. "But I was such a nerd in high school."

Kate's heart softened. She knew so little about his boarding school days, but she gathered that he spent most of the time feeling like a square peg in a round hole. "I don't know," she murmured, squeezing his shoulders affectionately. "Nerdy Castle might just be my favourite Castle."

* * *

Kate sat patiently in the waiting room of the optometrist's office. After a huge amount of sulking, she'd convinced him to suck it up and go to the appointment.

He stepped out of the doctor's office, still clearly unhappy with the diagnosis. He obediently followed the assistant, looking like he was going towards his death as he observed the wall of spectacles. "Castle, it is not that bad," Kate reminded him, moving from her seat to stand next to him.

"That's what you think!" He huffed. "My whole reputation is built on being the bad boy writer. You're Nikki Heat. You'll be hot no matter what."

Kate rolled her eyes, pulling a pair of wire-framed glasses off the rack and handing them to him. "I promise, nobody ever has to know that you wear glasses. They can be your little secret."

He frowned, but put the glasses on regardless. She watched as his posture improved and he stood just a little straighter. "They're not… that bad," he conceded, studying his reflection in the mirror.

Kate bit her lip, studying his frame. There was something different about him, but she couldn't put her finger on what. Regardless, he looked _good._ "Castle, I like them," she told him.

"You're just trying to make me feel better," he responded, grabbing another pair and slipping them on.

"Castle," she stepped closer to him, trying to draw his attention away from the mirror. He wasn't listening. She rose on her tiptoes so that her lips were at his ear. "Professor Castle," she sighed. "I'd do anything to pass Mystery Writer's 101," she kept her tone breathy, all coquettish tease.

He turned to face her, taken aback at her somewhat brazen words. "You really like them, don't you?"

She nodded. "I _really _like them," she emphasised, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, grateful he seemed to have forgotten his earlier stroppiness.

"Well then, I better get the right pair," he decided, turning back to the display.

* * *

Glasses finally sorted out, Castle's mood much improved; he dragged Kate into a tiny Lebanese restaurant for lunch.

"I feel like I haven't spent time with you in weeks," he murmured to her, slipping an arm around her waist as their server led them through the restaurant to their table, the air thick with the smell of scented tobacco that wafted from the hookah pipes sitting on the tables.

"I see you when I'm collapsing into bed or revealing secret parts of my past," Kate sassed him. "But you're right," she agreed. "This undercover thing is going to screw us in terms of actually spending time together."

Castle pulled her chair out, shrugging at her slightly raised eyebrow.

Their meals had been served. Castle's curiosity was piqued and he needed an answer, stat. "What's happening with the case?" he asked her seriously.

"The FBI screwed up, badly," Kate replied, slathering a piece of Lebanese bread with garlic sauce, before scooping on a healthy serving of tabouli and adding a falafel. She took a bite, barely holding back a moan at the delicious taste. "They got played and Marshall blew his cover for nothing."

Castle snagged himself a kibbeh, smothering it in hummus. "But you're still good, right?" He asked.

Kate nodded. "Well, considering Sam sent me a text message asking me to come in tonight while you were in with the doctor, I think I'm still good," she replied. "Marshall met with us to can the whole investigation," she told him. "Gates was amazing. Threatened to leak the whole thing to the media if he wasn't going to let me stay."

"You're in there alone?" Castle asked.

"I always was," Kate shrugged, dipping a kofta into baba ganoush. "I had no guarantee that Marshall and I would work the same hours. The only difference now is that I don't have the pretence of backup."

* * *

Nothing had really changed at the club. Carmen was teaching her how to open the bar up, still sassy and amazing at her job. Sam was still so camp that Kate expected him to whip out a picnic basket at any moment. It seemed that neither one suspected that she was a cop.

She was determined to keep her wits about her, though. Adam Marshall had been sure that nobody realised he was a cop, too.

The Ice Princess act as she served drinks was consistent. She stared and growled, and the tips just kept coming. Kate was grateful for that. It meant that she could keep her eyes open, just in case something cropped up that was worth seeing.

She'd told Castle that she'd call him when she was on her break, so it raised instant alarm bells when he didn't answer. It was unlikely that he was writing, and she knew Alexis was approximately in the middle of nowhere-with-Internet-land, so he most probably wasn't Skyping his daughter. Her curiosity was prickling, but she needed to be back on the floor. She really didn't have the time to investigate further. She reassured herself that Castle was probably having dinner with Martha and had left his phone on charge in the bedroom, that she was concerned over nothing.

Her heart flew up into her throat when she saw him, seated alone at a table towards the back. She schooled her features into cool disinterest, wandering back over to the bar.

"Babe, I need you to take a drink to the guy up the back," Sam told her, rapidly pouring shots into tumblers. "He insisted that he saw you when he walked in and he doesn't want service from anybody but "the girl with legs for days,"" He nodded over to where Castle was sitting, bathed in shadow from the dim lights of the club. "He's handsome, though," He mused, placing a glass of scotch onto Kate's tray. "In like, a rugged way, you know?"

Kate knew, alright. She had a very intimate knowledge of the ruggedly handsome man who had his eyes fixed on the girls on stage. Slipping into Natalia's persona, she added an extra sway to her hips as she strutted across the floor.

"Your drink, sir," she murmured, holding out the tray to Castle, refusing to make eye contact. She needed to maintain her cover and there was no way that she would if she met his gaze.

"Thank you," Castle responded, every inch the cocky jackass who had walked into her precinct five years ago. "I'll have another," he told her. "Put it on my tab."

God, this was humiliating. It was bad enough that she had to parade around like a performing monkey in heels, but she did not want Castle seeing her like this. He'd only ever known her as the tough as nails detective, and she didn't like that he saw this persona; the girl who had no choice but to allow herself to be a plaything for the pleasure of those with more money than sense. She felt more and more exposed as customer after customer undressed her with their eyes, and it was somehow more difficult to maintain her stoicism as customers grabbed and groped her; her body their plaything.

She delivered Castle's next drink without a word, tossing a napkin on his lap as she marched away. "Go home, Castle."

* * *

The advantage of working the opening shift was that Kate got to leave the club before the sun rose. She'd seen Castle leave about an hour before her shift ended, and she was not looking forward to the argument that was likely to ensue from his appearance that evening.

Her calves were aching. She was a regular heel wearer, certainly, but the spindly pumps Carmen insisted she needed to wear had her legs tied up in knots. Kate stepped out of the elevator and moved towards the gym, intent on swiping herself a latex Pilates band to stretch out her throbbing muscles.

She was taken aback when she realised that the gym wasn't empty. Clad only in a pair of gym shorts, fists pounding rhythmically against the hanging punching bag, was Castle.

Her breath caught in her chest. He was spectacular. She'd noticed that he'd started taking better care of himself, but she hadn't realised how much his body had changed. The muscles of his back rippled as he drove his fist into the bag, Kate's eyebrows shot up when she noticed that his hands were bare. He was glistening with sweat; his form impeccable as he lined up his hips to ensure maximum power was behind the arm that swung towards the bag.

His body was the boxer's ideal shape; broad shoulders and biceps that could crack open a coconut, tapering down into a slim waist. Kate wasn't even ashamed of her thudding heart or suddenly shallow breathing. Watching Castle hit things was hot.

There was something primal about watching him pound the shit out of a bag, his knuckles becoming pink and raw from the effort. She was completely turned on, and he hadn't even noticed her. His fist pounded against the bag in a perfectly timed and delivered right hook that she knew would knock a man out and he stepped away from the bag, his breathing rapid from exertion.

All the rage and the shame that had burned hot in her chest had begun cooling. There was no anger when he finally saw her, just defeat as she asked the first question that came to mind. "What the hell, Castle?"

He crossed the room in two large strides, hands coming up to cup her face as he drew her into a fierce kiss. There was something primal in the way his kisses consumed her, his hands roaming her body possessively, trying to claim her as he moved them across the room.

"Don't ever ask me to leave again, Kate," he hissed, his lips almost vicious as they travelled the path of her throat. "I will not leave you alone there." Kate felt her back hit the wall, and a moan escaped her when Castle nipped at her collarbone. "You're mine. I love you and I won't sit idly by when you've got nobody in your corner."

Kate clung to his bare skin, fingers digging into the muscles that she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed, one leg coming up to wrap around his hip. This was her tender man, put to the test. His protective nature had been pushed to the breaking point and she knew he wasn't trying to treat her like a china doll on a shelf by coming into the club. He was her equal and he was trying to have her back as surely as she had his.

A curse escaped her mouth when she felt his mouth on her breast, the spaghetti straps of her dress shredded as he forced the skimpy material down, marking her skin purpley-red with his mouth.

Her hips bucked against his, her sodden panties pressed against the bulge in his shorts. "Castle, please," she sighed, her breathy voice echoing in the empty gym. She pressed her shoulders against the wall, the leg on the ground threatening to give out from under her as Castle shoved her dress up, ripping at the fabric of her ruined panties and tossing them away.

He slammed into her, hips pistoning against hers furiously. He lifted her other leg to wrap around his waist, balancing her weight in his arms.

Kate gave as good as she got, using whatever purchase she had on the wall to meet Castle's thrusts, throaty moans escaping her mouth unbidden. She'd only seen this aggressively male part of her lover surface twice; once for her own defence and the other time to protect his daughter.

Wordlessly, he was showing her how far he was willing to go to protect her, love driving the fierceness of his ministrations. Her lips found his neck, nipping and biting at his flesh, determined to leave her mark on him as well.

Her orgasm came without warning, the slight twist of his hips enough to send her careening over the edge, her head thrown back wordlessly in ecstasy. The fluttering of her inner muscles was enough to have Castle join her, head buried into the crook of her neck as he rode the waves of pleasure.

Kate's feet hit the ground, slightly shaky as she attempted to hold herself up.

In stark contrast to just moments before, Castle gently tugged at her dress, bunched up around her midsection, attempting to protect her modesty as he redressed her.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, tenderly brushing hair from her face.

She shook her head. "Far from it," she promised, brushing a kiss against his mouth. "Why did we wait so long to do that?"

* * *

**A tumour, guys? Really?**

**This is the part where I go attempt to do uni work and kid myself into believing I won't be checking my inbox every 10 minutes. Validate me and make sure there's something there for me to look at, would you?**

**xxxx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Many thanks to Ky :) for dealing with my whining.**

**Its like, six and a half days and I have one sneak in particular on repeat. Do you really think I own?**

* * *

One of the many, many perks of dating a mystery writer with a seven-figure bank account was the glorious shower in his ensuite. The water pressure from the double showerheads was life changing; fragrant steam swirling through the cavity and permeating the room, easing the aches in her joints and loosening tight muscles in her calves.

Kate reached for Castle's hand, carefully inspecting his knuckles for broken skin. "I've only ever seen you like that once before," she mused, picking up the antibacterial soap she'd snagged from the medicine cabinet, lathering it up and massaging his hand.

Castle hissed as the soap made contact with skin that had been rubbed particularly raw. "I experimented with bare knuckle boxing when I was writing Storm," he informed her. "Played with it a little more when I started researching Nikki," he added.

"You're still researching Nikki," Kate interjected, guiding Castle's hand under the spray.

"I picked it up again in April," he told her.

Kate knew exactly what had prompted him to start training again. The thought sent shivers down her spine. She brushed a light kiss on his disinfected knuckles, picking up his other hand and beginning the process again. She clucked her tongue when she saw that the skin between his first and second knuckle was bleeding. "You know I'm not talking about your training," she murmured, brushing a kiss against his palm.

"I know," he answered.

There was so much they needed to talk about, but she couldn't bear to push him when he was so vulnerable before her. "It scares me," Kate admitted. "How fiercely you love." She rested a hand on his sternum, feeling the steady beating of his heart under his warm flesh. "I'm scared of what it means to be worthy of that love." In the time that she'd known him, she'd seen his breaking point tested three times. She was responsible for two of them.

"Don't, Kate," he cautioned her. "Don't question the way I love you."

Before reassurances that she wasn't questioning him and that her own insecurities were simply coming out to play could come bubbling out of her lips, she stepped forward and slipped her arms around Castle's frame, pulling him into her embrace, smiling against his wet skin when his arms tightened around her torso, his lips brushing her hair.

"I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine?" She suggested cheekily.

* * *

She tended to the open wounds on his hands, drying them and bandaging them up, silently praying he'd have no cause to see Gina, and Gina would have no cause to search for blood, hers or otherwise.

She ran a brush through her hair, trying to eliminate all the tangles, taking the opportunity to check her phone. "Sam wants me to come in tomorrow during the day," she sighed. "Apparently the Feds trashed the place during the raid and he needs help getting stock back together."

"So go," Castle encouraged her. "You might get the chance to actually poke around the place and find some actual evidence."

She could tell that he was deflecting just a tiny bit, subtly shifting away from what they both knew they had to talk about. She'd give it to him for now; the clock showed an ungodly hour of the morning and she knew that 2.24am was not the time to be launching into deep and meaningful conversations. She shot a quick reply text, before giving up on knot free hair for the evening. She slid into bed, curling onto her side and adjusting the pillow. Her day had been intense and long and she couldn't wait to sleep. A contented sigh escaped her lips when she felt Castle slip into bed beside her. "I love you, you know that?" she sighed, eyelids heavy with sleep.

She felt him plant a kiss on the back of her neck. "I know," he answered. "Go to sleep, Kate."

* * *

Her sleep had been far from restful. Flashes of what could have been all those months ago danced through her subconscious, tormenting her. No matter how she pushed it from her mind and tried desperately to relax, sleep wasn't going to come.

Kate lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. It was after 7am. She was already awake for the day; there was no way she'd find herself falling magically back to sleep.

She slipped out of Castle's embrace, padding out to the kitchen to hunt for caffeine. She wasn't working a night shift at the club, which she was silently grateful for, but she was going to need a big dose of caffeine pep to keep her focussed on her job and taking full advantage of the opportunity to poke around the club uninhibited by patrons or other staff.

Her phone began to buzz. "Hey Lanie," Kate answered softly, trying not to let her voice echo through the loft. "How are you?"

"Doin' well, girl. How about you? How's the undercover life treating you?"

"Which part of it?" Kate mused, propping her phone to her ear with her shoulder as she started preparing herself a cup of coffee. "I'm in there, having to act like a ditz and flip my hair when men who have overestimated what they have in their pants try and charm me and I haven't found a damn thing yet," she muttered.

"Kate, it's been three days," Lanie interjected. "You can't expect to have cracked the case wide open yet. Give it time."

Kate made a non-committal noise in the back of her throat. She hadn't expected to crack open the entire case, but it would be nice to have a lead to go with.

"And what the hell happened with the FBI raid?"

"Speaking of men overestimating what's in their pants," Kate trailed off. "Long story short? The FBI got played. Gates is a hard-ass, she played chicken with the Feds, and she won. I'm still in there, and my cover still seems good."

"That's good," Lanie replied, relief more than a little evident in her tone. "How's Castle taking this? He can't be cool with you shaking your money maker, even if it is for justice."

"His biggest issue with the situation is how much I hate it, actually," Kate commented, perching herself at the breakfast bar. "Castle has gone maverick," Kate informed Lanie, pausing to take a sip of the extra strong blend of coffee beans Castle had bought from a fair trade co-op based in Uganda.

"Excuse me?" Lanie demanded.

Kate chuckled. "He's decided that because the FBI is out, I can't be in there alone, so he's going to sit in the audience and be my backup," she explained, plucking up a banana and peeling it.

"Pervert," Lanie snorted.

"Yeah, well," Kate broke off a piece of banana, "If it means I get a screaming orgasm like I did last night, I have absolutely no problem with it."

"Oh you need to spill, _now_," Lanie cackled, her voice echoing around the walls of the morgue.

"No way," Kate replied, popping a bite of banana into her mouth. "You will have to ply me with at least a bottle of merlot before I reveal a thing. The only thing you need to know is that Castle has started boxing."

"You always did have a thing for arm muscles," Lanie teased.

"Oh Lanie," Kate sighed. "You have no idea."

"I finish at twelve," Lanie hinted. "Come have a boozy lunch with me and I might."

Kate bit her lip. A boozy lunch sounded amazing. "I can't," she pouted. "I've got club stuff to do."

Lanie made a nose of disgust. "Excuses," she huffed.

"None of that," Kate grumbled. "You know I'd prefer to be out to lunch with you, but this is the first chance that I'm actually going to get to poke around and actually find something." She paused. "You don't have anything for me, do you?"

"This is your lucky day," Lanie replied. "I found the same mark on all four of the girls heads. I ran a few tests. All four of the girls have had their heads smacked against a metal surface with a curved edge, in the exact same spot. It's a weird shape; so my only guess is that it was probably a pipe that protrudes from a wall. It broke the skin on all of their scalps as well, so I'd be looking for trace remains of blood."

"So find a pipe sticking out from the wall and I'll probably find my murder site?" Kate confirmed.

"I can't make any promises, but at least you've got something to go on," Lanie replied.

"You're the best," Kate groaned.

"I know," Lanie replied easily. "Just remember that you owe me big, juicy man details and I _will _cash in."

Kate rolled her eyes. "I'm hanging up the phone now."

"Doesn't mean you don't owe me!"

Kate placed her phone down on the bench. She hadn't missed this part of undercover work at all. The part where her life totally fell by the wayside in favour of a case and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her foot had been bouncing without her realising it. She was full of pent up energy that she had to use before she went insane. She drained the up of coffee, neatly placing into the dishwasher, before tiptoeing back into the bedroom, tugging on workout clothes and twisting her hair into a knot.

After scrawling a quick note, Kate took the stairs down to the lobby. She was antsy and needed to shake it off. She could make a list of the things in her life she couldn't control. But the steady pounding of her feet against the pavement as she ran through the streets of New York… she could control that.

* * *

Finding a place to tuck a UV flashlight whilst wearing a pair of shorts so short they could have easily passed as underwear and a singlet had proved an interesting challenge, but in a MacGyver style show of ingenuity, a combination of a ridiculously padded bra and some Hollywood tape seemed to have done the trick. Kate didn't know how well she would go removing and replacing said flashlight but at least she had them if she ever got the chance to investigate.

She stood at the back door of the club, waiting for Sam to realise she'd hit the buzzer. She jumped when the roller door she was leaning on started to open.

"Hey babe," Sam greeted her, running a hand through his mussed hair. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Thank you so much for coming in." He ushered her through the roller door, the pair of them weaving their way through the kegs that littered the floor of the cellar room.

Kate had hidden in more than one cellar during her time in Vice. They'd always, _always_ smelt like layer upon layer of old alcohol, a smell that had always made her shudder because of how eerily similar it was to the stench that had enveloped her father for so long.

The cellar smelt like bleach.

She picked her way through the room, avoiding the lines that ran from the kegs to the bar, hastily ripped from position by the FBI clearance team and scattered on the floor. Kate scanned the room, trying desperately to find an exposed pipe along the wall. It would look incredibly odd if she stopped to explore the room in greater detail, but she knew she had to find a way to get back in there without Sam babbling over his shoulder at her.

"So, I know it isn't exactly riveting or whatever, but so many racks of glasses were destroyed. Thank Barbra our supplier is only in Jersey, so I've managed to get more stock, but basically, we need to run it through the washers and polish it all before it gets put away," Sam explained, gesturing to the boxes of glasses stacked near the doorway to the wash room.

"Sounds fine to me," Kate replied, being sure to stick to Natalia's throaty tones.

The monotony of shoving racks of glasses into the glass washer and polishing the beads of water off them while they were still hot, before stacking them in racks was good. It was the kind of work that required a basic rhythm and very little thought as they steadily made their way through the boxes. Kate's mind kept slipping back to the cellar. She needed to poke around in there, as soon as possible.

She was barely listening to Sam's chatter, simply nodding along and adding the occasional "uhuh" or "okay" when there was a break in the conversation.

"Natalia," he called out insistently, drawing her attention away from the glass she'd been polishing. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Kate sighed. "Have you ever been in a situation when you know you need to come clean and tell somebody something about something they did a while ago and you know it'll be a good thing in the long run, but you also know it will initially really hurt and upset the other person?" She asked. She wanted to clasp a hand over her mouth the second that the words slipped out. She knew she couldn't retract them.

"This is that married guy, huh?" Sam asked her sympathetically. "Seems like it's more than just a fling," he commented wisely.

"Yeah," Kate answered. "It's more than just a fling," she agreed. This felt strangely good, talking to somebody who had absolutely no connection to her or to Castle.

"Well, I guess you gotta ask yourself… is telling the truth going to make the situation better or worse?" Sam slung his polishing cloth over his shoulder. "Because if it's going to make it better, then lay it on him. If it's going to make it worse, then I am a _huge_ believer in avoiding that shit until it comes to bite you on the ass."

"That sounds super healthy," Kate drawled.

"I've always found getting on your knees and…" Sam made a lewd gesture, "is a fantastic distraction," he told her with a wink.

Kate rolled her eyes, "You're an animal," she teased.

"I know what I'm good at!" He defended himself. "And technically, I'm your boss!"

"What are you going to do, fire me?" Kate sassed him. She wondered how far she could push this before she actually got Natalia in trouble.

"Nope, I'll just make you take all these empty boxes out to the recycling," he answered. "Through the cellar and into the alley, bitch."

Kate pretended to look put out. "Fine," she sighed, picking up the boxes.

She forced herself not to rush through to the cellar, maintaining a slow and easy pace as she balanced an armful of crushed cardboard on her walk through the club. She dumped the boxes out in the recycling, before rushing back to the cellar and forcing the door shut, pulling out her cell phone and wrestling out the flashlight.

"Hey girl," Lanie chirped down the phone, "changed your mind about giving me all the luscious details?"

"Lanie, is there any chance that the pole that the girls all smacked their heads against could have actually been a beer keg?" Kate asked urgently, hunting across the wall for the light switch.

"Yeah, I guess it could be," Lanie replied. "What makes you ask?"

"The cellar reeks of bleach," Kate answered, locating the light switch and flipping it off.

"Are you talking enough bleach to get rid of dead body smell?" Lanie asked.

Kate shone the flashlight around the dark room, the eerie flashes of blue light confirming that somebody had lost a hell of a lot of blood in that space. "That is exactly what I'm talking about," Kate agreed. "I think I just found our crime scene."

Kate froze. She could hear footsteps rapidly pounding down the corridor.

"What the hell is going on?"

* * *

**Dun dun dunnnnnnnn!**

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